Embers Of Hope

Chapter 22

Blake's POV

I stab the fork through the pancake and watch as syrup oozes around it, pooling on the plate. My appetite is nonexistent, but it's the only way to keep my hands busy, to stop them from shaking. I glance at Matteo and he's also playing with his food.

"You know, pancakes won't fight back, no matter how much you abuse them." Ma says her voice light.

Mom hits her shoulder, "Sof be nice."

Ma raises her hands in mock surrender, "They're ruining my appetite, beautiful." She whines.

Mom narrows her eyes, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. Like you actually made those pancakes from scratch."

Ma glares at her, a hint of a smirk on her lips. "Excuse me? Who was it that got up early to make breakfast?"

Mom scoffs, leaning back in her chair. "Got up early? You mean reheated the mix from last night?"

Ma gasps dramatically, hand over her heart. "I did not reheat. I put actual effort in! Unlike someone who thinks pouring coffee is the height of culinary talent."

"Oh, so now you're a five-star chef?" Mom raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Last time you tried to make pancakes, the fire alarm went off."

Ma huffs, shooting her a playful glare. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Mom grins. "Not a chance, sweetheart."

Their bickering draws me and Matteo in like it always does, the familiar back-and-forth settling something inside me. The tension fades just a little, warmth creeping in around the edges as they continue their mock argument.

"Fine," Ma says finally, crossing her arms. "Maybe you should make breakfast tomorrow if you're so picky."

They share a look, a mix of challenge and affection, and I can't help the small smile that forms. It's moments like these, their playful jabs and the way they settle into each other's rhythms, that remind me why I'm here—why I fight, and why, no matter how hard it gets, I know I'm not alone.

I wish I could find a love like that—a love that feels solid, unshakeable, something that could ground me the way they ground each other. They argue, sure, but there's no doubt, no hesitation. It's the kind of love that survives everything, even the kind of life we have.

I glance at Matteo, who seems just as lost in thought, a faint smile softening his face. Maybe he's thinking the same thing, or maybe he's just soaking in the comfort of it all, the rare feeling of peace.

"Anyways, how are you two? How's the business?" Mom asks.

Matteo and I share a look, the ease from a moment ago slipping just slightly as we think of what to say. It's a loaded question, especially considering the weight we're both carrying beneath the surface.

"We're managing," Matteo says, carefully casual. "You know, the usual headaches, keeping everyone in line."

Mom nods, her gaze sharpening just a little. "I hope that includes keeping yourselves safe, too."

"Of course," I answer, trying to sound reassuring. "We know how to handle things. Besides," I add, forcing a lightness into my tone, "You both taught us well."

"And what about Aria and Maya? How are they?"

The question catches me off guard. My heart skips a beat. I clear my throat, forcing myself to sound casual.

"Aria's probably with her parents," Matteo answers first, his voice carefully neutral.

"And Maya?" Ma asks, tilting her head as she studies me.