Chapter One: Beneath the Morning Sun.
961 Words
The morning sun filtered softly through the thin curtains of their small, timeworn apartment, painting golden patterns on the cracked concrete floor. The smell of fried eggs and toasted bread drifted through the air, blending with the quiet hum of the city waking outside. It was a modest home—bare, yet warm. Love lingered in every corner, tucked between the shelves of old books and the pictures hanging crookedly on the faded walls. For Daniella and her mother, Lucy, it was enough. More than enough.
Lucy stood in front of the mirror, brushing out the creases of her maid uniform. It wasn’t new. The white cuffs were already beginning to fade, and the once-crisp black cotton had grown dull. But it was clean, pressed, and worn with dignity. She turned to grab her handbag from the hook on the wall, her movements quick, almost too quick.
"Mum," Daniella called, appearing from the kitchen with a glass of water and a small strip of pills in her hand. "You forgot again."
Lucy gave her daughter a look that tried to be stern but ended up tired. "I’ll take it when I get to work, Dani."
Daniella stepped forward, blocking her mother’s path. She held the pills out like a lifeline. "You are not leaving this house until you take these drugs."
Lucy sighed and glanced at the wall clock. "But I haven’t eaten yet."
"Food is ready," Daniella said, a teasing smirk on her face. "Next excuse?"
Lucy opened her mouth, closed it again. "If I eat now, I’ll be late."
Daniella gently gripped her shoulders. "At least you’ll be in good health. If anything happens to you, they’ll find a replacement in a day. But I’ll have lost you."
Lucy looked into her daughter's eyes. There was strength there—a quiet, stubborn strength that reminded her so much of the man she once loved. She let out a resigned sigh. "Ohhh, okay. I’ve heard you. Let’s eat."
She followed Daniella into the small kitchen where a simple meal waited on the table. Daniella had laid everything out with care: plates, mugs, cutlery polished to a shine despite their age.
"Hmm... That smells so good," Lucy said, taking her seat.
"Tastes even better," Daniella replied with a grin, placing her mother’s bag aside and sliding a plate toward her.
They ate in silence for a few moments, the comfortable silence of people who knew each other too well to need constant chatter. Lucy watched her daughter, who was now a young woman, moving around the kitchen with practiced ease. Her heart ached with both pride and guilt.
As Daniella poured tea into a chipped mug, Lucy finally broke the silence. "Thank you."
Daniella looked over, surprised. "For what?"
"For everything," Lucy said softly. "For being strong. For looking after me when it should be the other way around."
Daniella shrugged, a small, bashful smile tugging at her lips. "It’s nothing."
"It’s not nothing, Dani." Lucy reached across the table and took her hand. "I see what you do. I know what you’ve sacrificed."
Daniella squeezed her mother’s hand in return. "You’re all I have, Mum. After Dad... I just want you to be happy. Healthy."
Lucy nodded, blinking away the sting in her eyes. She hated when her daughter talked like that—so full of responsibility, like she carried the weight of two lives.
After a pause, Lucy cleared her throat. "I saw Dill’s car outside last night."
Daniella’s shoulders tensed. She didn’t look up from her tea.
"Have you both made up?" Lucy asked, her voice light, casual.
"No."
"Then why was he here?"
"To see if I’ve changed my mind," Daniella said flatly. "Which I haven’t."
Lucy frowned. "Dani, what he’s asking for... it’s not so difficult."
Daniella looked up, eyes narrowed. "I can’t give him what he’s asking for. And frankly, I’m surprised you’re even asking me to consider it."
"I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want," Lucy said gently. "I’m just saying sometimes we have to bend the rules a little. He loves you. He’s practically family. And you’re old enough."
Daniella sat back, the tea forgotten. "Okay. Let me ask you something. When we both can’t afford my drugs, who pays for them?"
Lucy opened her mouth but said nothing.
"Dill," Daniella answered. "Who got me the recommendation for the last three gigs?"
"Dill," Lucy murmured.
"Who do we both call when we have the best and worst news?"
"Dill."
Daniella's voice grew soft. "Mum, I can’t give him what he’s asking for."
Lucy’s eyes searched her daughter’s face. "What are you afraid of? That he will abandon you after? That he won’t marry you?"
Daniella shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "Mum... I can’t have a child for Dill outside of marriage because... I’ve never been with a man before."
Silence.
Lucy stared at her, eyes wide.
"I want the only man I sleep with to be my husband. So if Dill wants a child from me, he has to marry me first. And that is non-negotiable."
For a long time, Lucy didn’t say anything. Then she reached across the table again, her hands trembling slightly as they held Daniella’s.
"I didn’t know," she said at last. "I thought... I thought you two had been together for two years."
Daniella nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well... we’ve... never. I’ve never."
Lucy pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m proud of you. And I trust you to make the right choices."
Daniella rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. "Eat your food, Mum. Take your drugs. Please."
They finished breakfast in thoughtful silence, the moment between them quiet but powerful.
- Writer
