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“Love isn’t about protecting yourself, my girl. It’s about leaving yourself vulnerable to what it exposes you to. One of my biggest fears has been what will happen to you once I’m gone.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Mom,” I say abruptly.

“Maybe not today.” She smiles gently at me. “But one day, I won’t be here, and I want to go knowing you are safe and loved, and that there is someone in your life who will be there to wipe your tears.”

“I don’t need—”

“There is nothing wrong with needing to lean on another person, Maya.” She takes my chin and forces me to look at her. “I don’t want you losing out on someone who treats you the way this man does because you’re scared of getting hurt.”

“What Dad did to you—”

“Again, not every man is your father, Maya.” My mother sighs, stroking a strand of my hair back. “And you are not me. I was weak, weak enough that I let myself forget that I was the mother and you were the child. I should have been the one taking care of you, not the other way around. Consider this an apology coming too late, sweetheart, but I’m sorry. I should have been a better mother. I shouldn’t have put so much on your shoulders.”

“Mom, don’t—” I begin, but she shakes her head.

“No, I need to say this. You deserved a better mother. You deserved a better childhood than the one you got. You are not weak like me, Maya. If, God forbid, your heart is broken, you have the resilience inside of you to get back on your feet. You are the one who gave me that strength. I don’t want you to hide from love. I want you to be brave.”

“Mom.” I let out a sigh. “I’m not in love with—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she says sternly. “You can lie to everybody else, even yourself, but not me. You trust him, Maya. You show him parts of yourself that you’ve never shown anyone before. I see that you care about him. At night, you wait for him so anxiously. And when he arrives, the look on your face is one of relief and happiness, the kind of happiness I’ve never seen in you before. You love him, even if you don’t know it.”

The words hits me like a physical blow. Love? Is that what this is? This constant awareness of Griffin, this ache when he’s not near, this inexplicable pull toward him, despite all reason?

“What if it’s not enough?” I ask slowly. “What if I’m not enough?” The fears Aria planted take root and blossom. “I’m human, Mom. I’ll never fully understand his world.”

“You don’t need to understand all of it. You only need to understand him.” Her eyes, so like my own, hold a wisdom born of years of love and loss. “And he needs to understand you. The rest, you figure out together.”

Tears well up unexpectedly. “I’m scared, Mom.”

“Of course you are.” She pulls me into her arms, and I rest my head on her shoulder like I did as a child. “Love is terrifying. It means giving someone the power to hurt you and trusting them not to use it.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

“No one ever is.” She laughs softly. “That’s the secret no one tells you. We’re all just stumbling forward, hoping we don’tmake too much of a mess of things. Now, go get ready. Your young man is waiting for you.”

Chortling at my mother calling Griffin my young man, I take a quick shower and get dressed. It’s already dark outside when I grab my things.

“Mom, I’m leaving!”

I knock on her door before opening it. “I’ll be back late, but I put dinner in the—”

My voice trails off as my mother looks at me with a mildly confused, quizzical look. “Who are you?”

Grief seizes me by the throat. It has been a few days since she had an episode. My mother has never reacted aggressively when she forgets me, just mildly curious.

I open my mouth and push back my tears. “It—It’s me, Mom.” I keep my voice cheerful. “Maya. See?” I pick up the framed photograph of the two of us from her nightstand. “I’m your daughter.”

She gives me a doubtful look. “Really?” Her eyes skim over the picture, and she smiles slightly before glancing at me. “You really are very pretty. But too thin.”

“Yes.” I squeeze her hand. “I know.”

“Are you going to a party?” she asks in awe, noticing my dress.

“Yes, I am.”

“Am I also going?”

“No, Mom,” I tell her gently. “You’re going to stay home and finish your embroidery and then have a nice dinner before you go to sleep. Teresa will come check on you in a few hours.”