Kitchen Confessional
Aria
The kitchen felt smaller than it ever had.
My mother was standing at the counter with a glass of white wine and her coat still on and her back to me when I walked in. I closed the door behind me. The Thai food was still in the bags where Caden had left it, completely untouched, and the whole room smelled like lemongrass and something about that detail, that stupid domestic detail, made my chest hurt in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
She didn’t turn around immediately.
I stood there and let her take her time because Caden had said let her say it all and he was right and I knew he was right and I was still terrified down to my actual bones.
“Mom,” I said.
“Don’t.” Quiet. Controlled. Not a shout. Somehow worse than a shout. “Give me one moment.”
I gave her the
