The dusky orange of a California sunset spilled between the palm trees, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as Jessica strolled through her quiet Los Angeles neighborhood. Her pug, Beyoncé — a stout little creature in a pink harness — trotted happily ahead, tail curled and bouncing with pride as she inspected every fire hydrant and mailbox like it was state property.
Jessica had earbuds in, but no music playing — just the city's distant hum and the soft jingle of Beyoncé's tags.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her hoodie pocket.
She pulled it out and tapped the screen. A text from Mom.
"Hey sweetheart. Thanksgiving's canceled this year. I've come down with something and just need to rest. Don't worry. I'm fine."
Jessica stopped walking, her heart sinking. She glanced down at her phone, brow furrowed. "Mom..." she muttered, voice tight with concern.
She typed quickly, fingers trembling slightly. "Do you need anything? I can ask a couple friends in Phoenix to run to the store for you, get you whatever you need."
The reply came almost immediately.
"No, no. I'm good. Just sick. Just resting. ❤️ Love you."
Jessica exhaled sharply through her nose, worry gnawing at her chest. "Dammit, Mom..." she muttered under her breath, a frown tugging at her lips. She could practically hear Lori's gentle, reassuring tone in her head, the motherly way she would try to soothe her even while feeling unwell herself.
Beyoncé looked up, as if scolding her for swearing.
Jessica gave a faint smile, shaking her head. "Okay... okay, I know you'll be fine," she typed back. "Just promise me you'll rest. Drink water. Take care of yourself. I love you, Mom."
A few seconds later, the reply blinked on the screen:
"I love you too, sweetheart. Don't worry. I'll be careful. ❤️"
Jessica pocketed her phone, tugging gently on Beyoncé's leash as she turned back toward her apartment, her mind still lingering on her mother. She quickened her pace a little, the city around her fading as she silently hoped Lori would actually rest, feeling the tug of both worry and love tighten in her chest.
⸻
An Hour Later – Jessica's Kitchen, LA
The cozy scent of sautéing garlic filled the air as Jessica stood over her crockpot, chopping carrots and muttering recipe instructions under her breath. Beyoncé sat nearby on a plush donut bed, eyes following Jessica's every move like she might drop a piece of chicken at any second.
Jessica scooped in chicken broth and leaned over to stir when her phone buzzed again — this time, the ringtone playing the opening piano from Rhiannon.
She glanced at the screen. Aunt Stevie.
She answered with one hand, the other holding a wooden spoon.
"Hey, Aunt Stevie."
"Hi, honey," came the familiar voice on the other end. "How are you doing?"
"I'm good. Just... making chicken soup."
"Oh?" Stevie paused. "That's actually why I'm calling — well, not about the soup. I've been trying to get a hold of your mother for days and she's not answering. I keep getting her voicemail. It's not like her and it's freaking me out a little. Have you heard from her?"
Jessica sighed, lowering the spoon. "Yeah. She texted me earlier and said Thanksgiving's canceled because she's come down with something. Said she was fine, just needed to rest."
