𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗩𝗘

Thanksgiving was just three days away, and I was standing in the middle of the bustling grocery store, scanning the long list I had prepared. I was determined to get everything right, down to the smallest details. This was the first Thanksgiving I would be spending with my family in five years, and it was likely going to be my father's last one. His health had been deteriorating rapidly in the past year, and the doctors didn't think he'd make it to Christmas. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on my chest. Everything needed to be perfect.

I walked down the aisles, grabbing bags of cranberries, stuffing mix, and sweet potatoes. The turkey was already ordered from a specialty butcher, and I'd be picking it up the day before Thanksgiving. I sighed as I grabbed some fresh herbs-rosemary, thyme, and sage-thinking back to the last time I had cooked for Thanksgiving.

With the cart now heavy, I made my way to the checkout line, loading everything onto the belt. The cashier made small talk, asking if I was ready for the holiday. I nodded, forcing a smile, but inside, I was already consumed with how this would all play out. After paying, I loaded the groceries into the car and drove over to my father's mansion.

The house stood tall and imposing, its grand, polished exterior reflecting his success, but now it felt hollow-a shell of what should have been a home filled with life. As I pulled into the long driveway, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the years I'd spent away.

Once inside, I placed the bags on the counter and began putting everything in its rightful place. I knew the kitchen well enough now, having come by a few times in the last couple of months since Dad moved here. The smell of the polished wood and freshly painted walls still lingered, but the house itself didn't feel like it had been lived in. It felt more like a showpiece, and I wondered if it ever would feel like home to me.

As I placed the last of the groceries in the fridge, I heard laughter-high-pitched, playful giggles-coming from the hallway. My heart warmed instantly at the sound of Noah and Na'Jae's voices. They burst into the kitchen; their eyes bright with excitement.

"Mami!" Noah ran toward me, throwing his little arms around my waist.

"Mami, we missed you so much!" Na'Jae added, wrapping his arms around me from the other side.

I knelt down to their level, pulling them both close. "I missed you, too, my loves." I kissed the tops of their heads. Their joy, their laughter-it was the only thing that made all of this bearable.

As I stood, my heart stopped for a moment. Behind them, standing in the doorway, was my mother. I hadn't seen her in years-not since she left us and moved to Colombia when I was just twelve. She had walked out on us, and I had never forgiven her. It was impossible to forget the sound of the door slamming behind her, her words echoing in my mind, telling me she couldn't handle it anymore. She couldn't handle us anymore. I was twenty-eight now, but the memory still stung like an old wound that had never fully healed.

Her presence was unexpected, to say the least. I hadn't prepared for this-for her. Nothing about my carefully laid plans included seeing the woman who had left me behind, a woman I had resented for most of my life. She looked different-older, of course, but there was something softer about her now, something I hadn't seen before.

"Maluena..." she whispered, her thick Spanish accent layering her words with a familiarity that both hurt and comforted me at the same time.

I straightened up, meeting her gaze. I hadn't seen her since she left me and Nathaniel behind and disappeared to Colombia. She hadn't even looked back.

"Mama," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. I wasn't ready to open that door. I didn't know if I ever would be.

The twins turned to look at her, confusion on their faces. Noah tilted his head and asked, "Who's that, Mommy?"