Her mother's sin

Isolde Cassian turned the key in the lock of her Brooklyn apartment and stepped inside carrying a small box from the bakery down the block. Twenty four today. The number felt heavier than it should. She set the box on the scratched counter and stared at the single candle she had stuck in the middle of the vanilla slice. "Happy birthday to me I guess," she muttered under her breath. Her phone buzzed. Lila's name lit up the screen. Isolde answered fast. "Hey you. Please tell me you are not spending your birthday night alone with a sad little cake," Lila said right away. Her voice carried that familiar mix of worry and pushiness. Isolde laughed once. It came out short and tired. "Okay first of all it is not sad. It has sprinkles. Second I am fine. Kieran said he had a late meeting but he promised he would come by after. We will do something small." Lila made a noise like she was chewing on doubt. "Small. Right. You have been carrying that guy for months now. When was the last time he actually showed up for you without an excuse attached? And do not even get me started on your mom lately. She has been weird around him. Like extra nice in that fake way." "She is just being mom," Isolde said. She picked at the edge of the cake box. "You know how she gets. Always trying to play nice with whoever I bring home. Besides I remember every little thing Kieran has said about work lately. The numbers do not always add up but he swears it is just temporary stress." "Numbers?" Lila pressed. "Babe your memory is scary good but sometimes you remember things people wish you would forget. Has he been acting off? Like distant off?" Isolde leaned against the counter. The apartment smelled like old takeout and the lavender spray she used to cover it. "A little. A few weeks ago he got really drunk one night and we were texting. It got... intense. Things he said he wanted to do to me. Stuff that made me blush even alone in my room. But then the next day he acted like it never happened. Brushed it off as drunk rambling." Lila whistled low. "Forbidden drunk sexting on your boyfriend? That sounds hot and messy. Did you like it?" "I did not hate it," Isolde admitted. Her cheeks warmed at the memory. The way his words had lit her up and left her uneasy at the same time. "But it felt like he was somewhere else even while talking to me. Like he was chasing something bigger than us." "Men like that always are," Lila said. "Look I love you. Call me if tonight goes sideways. Do not let them dim your sparkle okay? You deserve cake and good s*x and someone who remembers your damn birthday without reminders." "Thanks Lila. I will. Love you." Isolde hung up and set the phone down. The quiet pressed in after that. She moved to the small mirror in the hallway. Her reflection looked tired but hopeful. Dark hair pulled back loose. Eyes that still believed tomorrow might fix things. She had been the steady one her whole life. The daughter who remembered every bill due date and every promise her dad broke before he left. Eidetic memory was supposed to be a gift. Most days it just made the disappointments sharper. Her phone rang again. This time it was her mom. "Hi sweetheart. Happy birthday," Victoria said. Her voice sounded warm. Too warm maybe. "Are you home yet? I left a little something for you on the table." "Yeah I just got in. Thanks Mom. You did not have to." Isolde walked toward the living room. A small wrapped box sat there. "Kieran is coming later so we will celebrate then." There was a pause on the other end. Short. Almost nothing. "Kieran. Yes. He mentioned he might stop by. He has been so helpful lately with some things around here." "Helpful how?" Isolde asked. She turned the box over in her hands. "Oh you know. Little fixes. Talking about work stuff. He is a good man Isolde. You hold onto that." Her mom’s tone shifted. Softer. Like she was smiling at something else. "I am glad you two are still together. At your age stability matters." Stability. The word sat funny in Isolde’s chest. "Mom are you okay? You sound... different." "I am fine honey. Just thinking about how fast time goes. Twenty four already. I was your age when I had you. Made a lot of choices back then." Another pause. "Tell Kieran I said hello when he gets there." "I will. Love you." "Love you too." Isolde ended the call and set the phone down. Something in her mom’s voice kept replaying. That extra sweetness. The way she said Kieran’s name. It was probably nothing. Birthdays made everyone sentimental. She changed into something nicer. Soft sweater. Jeans that actually fit right. Checked her phone again. No message from Kieran yet. She sent him a quick text. "Hey babe. Heading home soon? I got cake and I missed you." The reply came faster than usual. "On my way. Sorry about the delay. Rough day. See you soon." Isolde smiled at that. Rough day. She could make it better. She always tried to. That was her thing. Fixing what others broke. Remembering the details so nothing slipped through. She grabbed her bag and decided to walk the few blocks to her mom’s place instead of waiting. Surprise him. Surprise both of them maybe. The rain had started light. Cool against her face as she moved through the familiar Brooklyn streets. Lights from corner stores glowed wet on the pavement. Someone’s music leaked from an open window. Normal night stuff. Her mind wandered back to that drunk night with Kieran. The texts that got filthier as the hours passed. Him describing exactly how he would touch her. How he wanted her on her knees. How he needed her tight around him while he said things he never said sober. She had played along. Heart racing. Body responding even through a screen. But in the morning he laughed it off. Called it stupid drunk talk. "Why do you do that?" she had asked him the next day over coffee. "Do what?" "Pull away right when it gets real." He had shrugged. Kissed her forehead. "Work stuff baby. Do not overthink it." She had let it go. She always let it go. Now the rain picked up. Isolde pulled her jacket closer and turned the corner onto her mom’s street. The house looked the same as always. Porch light on. Curtains half drawn. She climbed the steps quietly. Key in her hand. She wanted to see his face when she walked in with the cake. Wanted that moment where he remembered her. Really saw her. She unlocked the door. Pushed it open slow. Warm air hit her first. Then the sounds. Low voices. Breathing. A moan that did not belong to her. Isolde stepped inside. The cake box suddenly felt heavy in her hands. "Mom?" she called out. Her voice came small. No answer. Just more sounds. Rhythmic. Familiar in the worst way. She walked toward the living room. Each step dragged. Her eidetic memory already filing away the details she did not want. The jacket on the floor. Kieran’s. Her mom’s scarf tossed over the couch. Then she saw them. Kieran. On top of her mother. Their bodies moving together on the couch. His hands gripping her hips. Her mother’s head thrown back. The sounds they made filled the room like they had forgotten anyone else existed. Isolde stood there. Cake box slipping in her grip. Kieran noticed first. His eyes met hers mid thrust. Surprise. Then something worse. No real guilt. Just annoyance. "s**t. Isolde." He did not even stop right away. Her mother turned her head. Cheeks flushed. Hair messy. "Baby... this is not... we can explain." But they did not explain. Not really. Kieran pulled back slow. Victoria sat up and reached for a throw blanket like that would fix anything. "How long?" Isolde asked. Her voice cracked but she forced the words out. "How long has this been going on?" "Months," Kieran said. He stood. Zipped his pants like this was a normal conversation. "Look it just happened. Your mom... she gets me in ways you do not yet. The stress. The money stuff. She listens." "Money stuff?" Isolde repeated. Her memory flashed to every late night he spent on his phone. Every excuse. Victoria looked almost sorry. Almost. "He needed someone older. Someone who understands the world. I was trying to help sweetheart. For both of us." "Help?" Isolde’s laugh came out broken. "This is help?" Kieran stepped closer. "We were going to tell you eventually. After your birthday. Do not make this bigger than it is." Bigger than it is. Her boyfriend f*****g her mother on her birthday. In the house she grew up in. While she carried cake like some naive i***t. Isolde backed away. The cake box hit the floor. Vanilla and sprinkles smashed under her shoe as she turned. She ran. Out the door. Into the rain. Tears mixing with water on her face. Her phone buzzed in her pocket but she did not look. Could not look. The streets blurred. Horns honked somewhere distant. She crossed against the light. A car swerved. Brakes screeched. She froze in the middle of the wet road. Headlights blinding her. The driver door opened. A tall man stepped out. Expensive coat. Sharp features. He looked at her like he already knew too much. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he asked. His voice cut through the rain. Low. Controlled. Isolde could not answer. Her legs shook. The image of them together burned behind her eyes. Kieran. Her mother. The moans. The excuses. The man moved closer. "Get in the car. You are soaked and about to cause an accident." She should have said no. Should have kept running. But she did not. She looked at him. Damien Blackthorn. She did not know his name yet but something in his eyes said he was not the type to offer help for free. "What do you want?" she whispered. He held the door open. Rain slid down his face but he did not blink. "Answers. And maybe a deal. Get in Isolde." She got in. The door closed behind her with a heavy click. The car pulled away from the curb leaving the rain and the betrayal behind. For now.