𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚/𝐘𝐨𝐮)

[ Four ]

A sudden, wet sensation on my face jolted me awake, causing me to cringe. Groaning, I lifted my head from the pillow and rubbed my eyes, slowly regaining focus. As my vision cleared, I recognized the culprit — Toulouse, my pet, licking me to wake me up.

The dog barked at me, the began licking me again. I gently moved him off and giggled, "Hi, boy. How did you get in here? Did mom come by while I was sleeping?" I ran my fingers through his soft fur before throwing off the blankets and getting up to head upstairs.

Reaching the final step, I furrowed my brow in confusion and the sight of Frankie sitting on my couch and my mom placing her purse on the kitchen counter.

Frankie immediately stood up and walked towards me as soon as he saw me. He greeted me with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I tried calling you three times last night, but you never answered," He said.

Feeling a bit confused, I returned my brother's hug, relishing the warmth. But as my heart grew heavy, I pulled away. "Sorry, my phone is on silent. What are you all doing here?" I asked.

"Yesterday, I received a call from Victoria expressing her concern that you were all alone in the house. I immediately called mom, who then caught the first flight so we could come spend time with you."

My mom approached me, enveloping me in a warm hug and gently kissing my forehead. "Why didn't you tell me you've been feeling down lately?" She asked. "You're my daughter and you know you can talk to me about anything. I love you."

"I love you, mom." I whisper, closing my eyes.

Feeling something nudge my leg, I instinctively pull away from my mom's embrace and kneel down to plant a gentle kiss on Piggy smallz adorable pink nose.

I can't help but marvel at how much he has grown since he last was here; his little belly seems rounder, and the shine of his curly tail is delightful as ever.

He's been living with my mom for the last few weeks,  ever since I had to leave for work at the studio. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone at home , and my mom had eagerly stepped in, promising to keep him company. I chuckle at the memory of their initial introductions; Piggy smallz took to her instantly, and now, it seems she's become his favorite caretaker.

As I watch him oink softly, clearly unconcerned with my nostalgia, he trots back to a massive tray of salad,  the green piled high like a verdant mountain.

The sight brings a smile to my face.

"Ariana," my mom calls out. I stand upright and turn to look at her. She's standing in the kitchen near the fridge, her back illuminated by the soft glow of the overhead light.

"What are you eating? Where's the food? You're surviving off of little to nothing," my mom says, her voice laced with concern as she furrows her brow  at the almost empty fridge.

Inside, a few blueberries languish in their container, a couple of wilted carrots rest uneasily, and a lone cup of yogurt sits, untouched.

The only other items are bottles of water and non - sugar drinks.

I can see her worry materializing in the creases of her face as she pulls out her phone, her fingers ready to navigate. "I'm going to grocery shop for you online, okay?" She adds, trying to take charge of the situation.

I nod, though the simple gesture feels heavy.

What was there to say? I could try to explain, to pain a picture of how food has transformed from a source of nourishment into a landscape of anxiety. But my voice feels trapped in the distance, drowned out by the reality of my struggles.

The emptiness in my fridge reflects the emptiness I've been feeling inside.

Seeing my mom typing away on her phone, I made my way to the couch where Frankie was sitting.

He was deep in conversation, but as I approached, he hung up, muttering something about calling back later.

I could see a mix of anticipation and frustration in his eyes, which only intensified when he finally spoke.

"You know, I've been thinking lately, and I really want to adopt," He said, his voice steady yet laced with vulnerability.

I raised my eyebrows, not surprised; this was a conversation he had initiated several times before.

"That was my husband on the phone, by the way," He continued. "Every time we try to discuss it, he either dismisses the idea or it ends up in an argument. He just doesn't think we should adopt yet."

I could feel the crack in his voice as he shared his feelings.

"But I've been feeling like there's something missing lately. I've got it all, you know? Yet I don't–not really. I want to start a family. I would love to provide a child with a loving home."

Frankie paused, frustrated evident in his furrowed brow. "But my husband doesn't see it that way. He thinks we're moving too fast, that we need more time to think." His gaze drifted away, seemingly lost in thought.

"You guys just need to sit down and talk. Listen to what each other is saying. Hale didn't come from great parents; you know that." I poured my heart out to my brother, hoping he'd understand the weight of my words.

Hale's upbringing had been far from conventional, and I could sense that it shaped his views on family and fatherhood.

"Maybe he's scared, you know? Scared of raising a child because he thinks he won't do a good job."

The concern in my voice deepened as I continued. "Just sit down with him and share how you feel. You both are navigating such significant, life–altering choices. He said it himself; maybe he does want to adopt, just not right now. He might need time to realize that he has so much potential to be a great dad."

I watched as my brother's expression shifted, absorbing my thoughts, hoping he'd see that sometimes the bravest step is simply opening up the lines of communication.

"Be comfort with waiting a little longer for the things you deserves."

I couldn't help but sigh internally.

Look at me comforting others with the words I wish to hear.

He ponders for a moment before giving me a smile.

"Thank you; you always give the best advice, sis." He says, his eyes lighting up with a warmth.

As he turns back to his phone, I can't help but notice the way his fingers hover eagerly over the screen, as if anticipating the sound of his husbands voice.