Us, eventually

The sound of Mom's mixer filled the kitchen, drowning out the afternoon news playing softly from the television. I sat at the dining table with my chin resting in my palm, watching her move between the counter and the oven as she prepared another order. It had been a year since Dad went to prison, and somehow, Mom had learned how to keep our little family moving without him. I wasn't sure any of us had learned how to live without him. Mom had started taking more orders after Dad was imprisoned. She made pastries, cakes, and different kinds of confectioneries for anyone willing to pay, and although the business helped us get by, it wasn't enough to maintain the life we'd once had. Our house was big, beautiful, and filled with years of memories, but keeping it that way came with bills Mom could no longer comfortably afford. She rarely complained about it, though. Whenever I asked if she was okay, she'd simply smile and tell me not to worry. "Amara, can you check if the cupcakes are ready?" she called from the kitchen. I got up and walked over to the oven. "They're ready." "Good. Bring them out carefully." I slipped on the oven mitts and pulled out the tray. The sweet smell of vanilla filled the kitchen, and Mom immediately began arranging the cupcakes into a box. I watched her for a moment, noticing the tiredness around her eyes that she tried so hard to hide. "How many orders do you have today?" I asked. "Three. The cupcakes are for Mrs. Adams, then I have a cake to finish before evening." "That's a lot." "It's manageable." She said it with a smile, but I knew her well enough to know she was exhausted. She had been doing this for months, trying to keep our family afloat while Dad remained behind prison walls. Sometimes I wondered how she did it without falling apart. "Can you call Mike for me?" she suddenly asked. I looked toward the stairs. "Where is he?" "Probably in his room." "He's always in his room." Mom laughed softly. "Just call him." I went upstairs and knocked on my brother's door. "Mike!" "Give me a minute!" I opened the door anyway and found him sprawled across his bed, completely absorbed in his phone. "Mom wants you downstairs." He barely looked up. "Why?" "I don't know." "Did she say anything?" I shrugged. "Come and find out." A few minutes later, we were both sitting in Mom's room. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking at us with an expression I couldn't quite understand. Mike settled into the chair beside the window while I sat opposite Mom, waiting for her to speak. Instead, she smiled casually. "Are you two not tired of the busy life here?" Mike frowned. "What?" Mom chuckled. "I'm asking if you wouldn't like to live somewhere quieter. Somewhere peaceful, with beautiful nature and sea views." I stared at her, completely confused. This was the last thing I had expected her to bring up on an ordinary afternoon. Mike looked at me before turning back to her. "I'm comfortable here. What's up with the sudden topic?" Mom's smile faded slightly. She folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath, and the strange feeling in my stomach suddenly became stronger. "Well," she said quietly, "we're moving." I froze. For a moment, I thought I'd heard her wrong. My eyes moved around the room as though someone else might be there to explain what she'd just said. "Moving?" Mike repeated. Mom nodded. "To another town." I stared at her. "Why?" "You know why, Amara." Her voice was gentle. "I've tried to keep this house, but I can't keep up with the maintenance and bills anymore. Your father's situation has changed everything, and I have to be realistic. I've sold the house, and I've bought a smaller one in a quieter town." The words reached me one after another, but my mind refused to process them. Sold the house. Another town. A smaller house. I looked around Mom's room, and suddenly, every little detail seemed painfully familiar. The old curtains Dad had chosen. The framed family photograph on the dresser. The small scratch on the wooden floor that Mike had caused when he was younger. Memories came rushing back so quickly that my chest began to hurt. This wasn't just a house. This was where I'd grown up. This was where Dad had carried me around when I was little. Where Mike and I had fought over the television remote, where Mom had baked birthday cakes every year. And now we were leaving it behind. "I need some air," I whispered. "Amara—" I was already on my feet. I walked downstairs and stepped outside before Mom could stop me. The afternoon breeze brushed against my face as I began walking without any particular destination in mind. I needed to get away from the house, from the conversation, from the thought of strangers eventually living in the place that had been ours for so many years. I didn't realize where I was going until I turned onto Bella's street. My steps slowed. Bella. My best friend. Her house was just around the corner, and suddenly, the thought of leaving her hurt almost as much as leaving my home. We'd known each other for years. Her house had practically become my second home, and there were memories between those walls that belonged to both of us. I walked through the gate, and by the time I reached the front door, tears were already streaming down my cheeks. Bella's mother was in the sitting room when I entered. She looked up, and the moment she saw my face, her expression changed. "Oh, Amara." I couldn't hold myself together anymore. She pulled me into a hug, and I cried against her shoulder, barely managing to explain why I'd come. She already knew. She and Mom were close, so it wasn't surprising that Mom had told her about the move. "You'll still keep in touch," she said gently, patting my back. "It isn't the end of your friendship." I nodded, wiping my face. "Where's Bella?" She hesitated before pointing upstairs. "She's in her room." My heart sank. Bella and I had argued badly the previous night. She'd been hurt after finding out that the boy she'd liked for months didn't like her back. He liked me instead, and it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. I wasn't sure she wanted to see me. Still, I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. I slowly climbed the stairs and stopped outside her room. My hand hovered over the handle for a few seconds before I finally gathered the courage to knock and open the door. Bella was lying on her bed, staring at her phone. She glanced at me, then immediately looked away. "Bella," I said softly. She didn't respond. I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Then I took a breath. "I'm moving." Her fingers stopped scrolling. Slowly, she looked at me. "What?" "Mom sold the house. We're moving to another town." For the first time since I'd entered, the anger disappeared from her face. She simply stared at me, as if she was waiting for me to laugh and say I was joking. "You're leaving?" I nodded. Bella didn't move from the bed. She didn't say anything either. I waited for her to say something, but the silence between us only grew heavier. Maybe she was still angry. Maybe she didn't know what to say. Or maybe she was hurting just as much as I was. "I just wanted you to know," I whispered. I turned and walked out before my tears could start again. After saying goodbye to Bella's mother, I left the house and headed home, forcing myself not to look back. Inside Bella's room, the moment she heard the front door close downstairs, she slowly sat up. Her eyes filled with tears. She had been angry with Amara only hours ago. She had wanted to stay mad, maybe for another day or two, until the hurt faded. But she hadn't expected Amara to leave. She wasn't ready to lose her best friend. And neither was Amara.