Too quiet. We saw each other on holidays. Short visits.
Tight hugs.
Conversations squeezed between departures. But Easter… Easter was different.
Easter was my mother’s production. Thirty guests.
Perfect table settings.
Too much food. Too many eyes. “This year has to be flawless,” she announced a week before, flipping through a magazine.
“People talk.”
“People always talk,” I muttered under my breath.
“Nothing, Mom.”
***
The morning of Easter, I checked the mailbox on my way back from a quick grocery run. Bills.
Coupons. And then—
An envelope.
Official.
Stamped. From Maya’s college. “No… no, no,” I whispered, tearing it open right there by the door.
I scanned the first line.
And everything inside me dropped. “Due to repeated absences and failure to meet academic requirements…”
“This has to be a mistake,” I said out loud.
My hands started shaking. Six months.
She’d been gone for six months.
Studying.
Working hard. Building her future.
That’s what I thought. I folded the letter slowly.
Carefully.
Like it might explode if I didn’t. “Not today,” I said under my breath.
“I won’t ruin today.”
But something was already broken. And I had no idea how much worse it was about to get.
By the time the house filled up, I was already running on nerves instead of energy.
My mother floated through the room like a hostess in a magazine spread. Perfect posture. Perfect smile.
Perfect control.
“Careful with the plates,” she said sharply to a guest. “Those are imported.”
I stood by the counter, pretending I wasn’t carrying a secret in my pocket that burned like fire.
The letter.
“Maya should be here by now,” my mother said, glancing at the clock. “Guests are asking.”
“She said she’d be on time,” I replied, trying to sound calm.
I clenched my jaw but said nothing.
“WHERE IS MY GRANDDAUGHTER?” my mother suddenly snapped, loud enough to cut through the chatter. “EVERYONE IS WAITING!”
Heads turned. Conversations paused.
“I’ll call her,” I said quickly, already grabbing my phone.
Embarrassing. Of course, that was the problem. I stepped outside, the door closing behind me like a barrier between two worlds.
I exhaled slowly and dialed. No answer.
“Come on, Maya… pick up,” I muttered, pacing the driveway.
Then I saw movement. At the far end of the road. Maya walked toward me.
And beside her—a man.
My stomach dropped instantly. He looked wrong for that place.
His coat was worn. Torn at the sleeve.
His hands trembled slightly as he walked, like the cold had settled into his bones and never left.
And yet, something in his face pulled at me. A line of the jaw. The way his eyes lifted for a second.
Familiar.
“Maya?
Who is this?”
“No,” I grabbed her arm gently, pulling her aside before she reached the house. “You explain now.”
Her eyes met mine.
“If you bring him in there,” I whispered urgently, glancing toward the house, “she will throw us out. You know that.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
