Chapter 5 - The Warmth of Home
Back at my house, the fire was roaring. The smell of cedar and cinnamon replaced the metallic scent of the freezing kitchen. I sat Maya down, wrapped her in a wool quilt, and placed a mug of hot chocolate in her hands.
She looked at me, her eyes red, but clear. "They’re gone, aren't they?"
"They are, sweetheart," I said, sitting beside her. "And they're never coming back. I’ve handled the legal side. Your divorce papers are already drafted. They won't fight them. They’re too busy trying to figure out how to pay their back taxes without their 'assets'."
Maya took a sip, her hands finally ceasing their tremor. She looked at the fireplace, then at me. "I thought I was invisible, Mom. I thought I had to be."
May you like
"You were never invisible to me," I said, pulling her into an embrace. "I was just waiting for the right moment to remind them who they were dealing with. A storm is coming, but you’re safe now."
That night, for the first time in years, Maya slept through the night. And for the first time in years, I didn't worry. I knew that the storm had passed, and the wreckage was exactly where it belonged: in the past.
