The night air clung to my skin as I slipped the key into the door. It was almost 8 PM, much later than my usual return from work. I pushed the door open quietly, praying I could tiptoe straight to my room before questions found me. The day had drained every strength in me. I just wanted silence.
But Mummy was standing right there in the living room, her arms folded loosely, her eyes sharp with worry.
"Esmeralda."
My name left her lips in a tone that made my steps falter. Not angry. Not scolding. Just… scared.
"Good evening, Mummy," I whispered.
She stepped forward, her brows creasing. "Why are you coming back this late? This isn't like you at all."
I placed my bag gently on the nearest chair, avoiding her gaze. My throat felt tight. "I… met with Ethan's mom," I said. Quiet. Too quiet. I didn't want to say more. Not yet. I didn't even know how to start untying the knot of that encounter.
Her eyes widened. "You didn't tell me you scheduled a meeting with her."
I shook my head, hating how weak I sounded. "I didn't schedule anything. She… she called." I lied.
"What was the meeting all about, Esmeralda?" she asked, her voice firm but gentle, searching my face for the truth.
I opened my mouth, hoping the words would come, but they tangled inside me like thread caught on thorns. "Nothing much, Mummy. She… she just wanted us to talk about… about…"
But my voice broke, and before I could force the rest out, Mummy raised her hand softly.
"Esme," she said, her tone trembling slightly, "for days now, you've been cold. Not just cold, you've been… unreal. I am supposed to know when my child is drowning. And yesterday, that strange car under the old tree, do you think I'm fine after that? Keeping secrets from me will only scare me more."
For the first time in a long time, I felt judged not harshly, but truthfully, and the weight of that truth cracked something in me. Tears began to fall, warm and helpless.
"You're right, Mummy," I whispered. "We talked about… me."
She softened instantly. "Come, come and sit. Let us talk about this together, Esme."
I walked to the blue couch on the right side of the sitting room and sat down heavily. My fingers trembled as I pulled out my handkerchief to wipe the tears that wouldn't stop.
"She offered me money to leave Ethan," I finally confessed.
Mummy gasped, her hand rising to her chest. She stared long and hard, her eyes searching mine. "There's… a lot I need to know, isn't there?"
I lifted my face, trying to contain the tears pooling in my eyes. "Sure," I whispered.
She moved closer, turning so she could study me. "Tell me the mystery behind that question you asked me. It's beginning to make sense now."
My brows knitted. "What question?"
"You asked me if sickle cell patients have a place in marriage in this generation," she said quietly.
My stomach dropped. My chest tightened.
"I… I'm… Mummy, it was nothing. Just me trying to find my place in this world," I muttered, dodging the truth because the truth itself hurt.
She watched me with eyes that saw more than I wanted her to. "What is Ethan saying about all this?"
I exhaled shakily. "He's just there… coming to me after I'm done facing his mother alone."
Mummy sighed deeply and adjusted her wrapper. Her voice softened, but her words were sharp with sincerity.
"Esmeralda Augustine, listen to me. Never force yourself into a space that is not meant for you."
The words stabbed deeper than she knew. The exact same thing Ethan's mother had said.
"This fight shouldn't be yours," she continued. "There are many men out there, men who won't make you prove your worth, men whose families won't turn your pain into a bargaining chip. You don't deserve this kind of battle."
A fresh tear rolled down my cheek, and I swiped it away quickly, ashamed of how easily my heart broke.
"I know, Mummy," I whispered. "But… I love him. And I didn't ask for his mother's judgment. She dragged me into that restaurant, sat me down, looked straight into my eyes and told me to name my price. Like I was some cheap gold digger."
Mummy's sharp inhale told me she wasn't expecting that.
"She said I should write the amount I want, and she would pay me immediately," I continued, my voice cracking. "All she wanted was for me to disappear from her son's world."
I swallowed, remembering the way Ethan's mother leaned toward me, her eyes cold but confident.
"She reminded me of my crisis, Mummy. She said people like me don't last long. She said I had few days filled with suffering. She said I wasn't worth her son."
My stepmother's eyes softened painfully, her hand flying to her mouth.
Then she asked, in a trembling voice, "Did you ever believe in her words?"
The question startled something deep in me.
I sniffed. "Sometimes I feel she's right. Because tell me, Mummy, all my life I've been a burden even from childhood. I can't bear this. It's too much for me."
Mummy reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "Esme, don't take her words as truth. You have survived things stronger than her insults. Your condition has never defined your destiny. Don't let anyone weaponize your pain. Do you hear me?"
Her voice was soft but powerful, steadying my shaking heart.
Still, the heaviness remained.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the couch.
It was Ethan.
My stomach tightened instantly.
The message read: "I'm sorry Esme for replying late. What happened?"
I stared at the screen, my hands trembling.
So many things had happened.
Too many things he didn't know.
And somehow… I didn't even know where to begin.