Fiona stood in the doorway longer than she meant to, the taste of Martin's kiss clinging to her lips like smoke she couldn't shake. The apartment smelled of chamomile tea and Elara's lavender hand cream home, but suddenly too small for all the secrets pressing against her ribs.
Elara was sleeping on the couch, glasses low on her nose, wedding magazines fanned open around her like a deck of cards she'd been shuffling in her sleep. One page was dog-eared: a bride in emerald silk, sticky note attached in Elara's neat handwriting: *Fiona would glow in this*. The sight made Fiona's chest ache.
She couldn't keep doing this.
Not one more night.
She walked forward quietly, knelt beside the couch.
"Mom?"
Elara stirred, blinked slowly, smiled before her eyes were fully open.
"Baby girl… you look really terrible whats wrong..
"Mom." Fiona caught her hand. Held it tight. "I need to talk to you. Right now."
Elara sat up fully, concern wiping the sleep from her face.
