Page 35 of Velvet Corruption

“Not always. But it can be.”

She made a face like she’d bitten into a lemon. “Math is the worst.”

No, this is the worst,I thought. But I said no such thing. “Let’s take a break.”

“Dad says that I need to—“

“Dad says a lot of things, mi amor. Let’s take a break.”

I ruffled her hair and walked back to the living room, where my laptop mocked me from the couch. The election was eating my life, and I missed the days when we could just hang out, read silly books, and bake cookies without me fretting over voter turnout, campaign contributions, or the city’s brilliant decision to hold a snap election a few weeks after Lenta’s death.Emergency measures to restore public trust,they said—because God forbid the mayor appoint someone and risk looking corrupt. Or maybe they just didn’t expect me to run.

But here I was…running, raising a daughter, and dealing with my soon-to-be-ex husband.

Rosie put down her pencil with a huff and came over to me. “Can we make pancakes?”

“I have a better idea. I’m going to order in,” I say. “Then we can watch a movie, huh? Your choice.”

Rosie’s eyes lit up. “Even a Disney one?”

I hesitated. The stack of work waiting for me was taller than the Empire State Building, and taking two hours out of my day to watch Frozen for the hundredth time seemed like an indulgence I couldn’t afford. But then I looked at Rosie’s hopeful face and remembered that this was supposed to be quality time. That it wasn’t just her life I was trying to balance, but mine as well.

“Even a Disney one,” I said, smiling.

She cocked her head, a strand of curly hair falling over her forehead. “But don’t you have to work?”

“Work can wait,” I said, though my fingers twitched with the phantom strokes of a keyboard. “Pancakes and princesses are more important right now.”

Rosie beamed, and for a moment, the tension that had been knotting my shoulders for weeks began to unwind. This was what I needed—a reminder of why I was doing all of this in the first place. It wasn’t just for me; it was for her, for us.

“You know what I really have to do? I have to dance,” I said.

“Mami—“

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I can feel it. It’s dancing time.”

I stood and wiggled in place, doing a ridiculous shimmy that I knew would mortify her. She covered her face with her hands but peeked through her fingers, giggling despite herself.

“Dance breaks are scientifically proven to make you smarter,” I said, twirling around and nearly knocking over a floor lamp. “It’s like an algorithm for your brain.”

She laughed out loud at that, and my heart swelled. I grabbed her hands and pulled her into a spin, and she didn’t resist. We whirled around the living room together, our steps chaotic and uncoordinated.

She tried to break free, but I held her tight, bending her backwards in a melodramatic dip.

“Mami!” she shrieked, half in terror, half in joy. She grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and threw it at me. So this was how she wanted to play this.

This was war.

“En garde!” I said, pulling her up and into a mock fencing stance and speaking in a bad French accent. “We duel!”

She played along, swatting at me with imaginary swords as we pranced around the room. For a few precious minutes, we were pirates on the high seas, conquering an empire of couches and coffee tables.

When we finally collapsed onto the sofa, breathless and laughing, I felt something close to whole again. This was the Ruby I recognized—the woman who could balance a life full ofcontradictions with grace. The mother who knew how to seize a moment of pure, unfiltered joy.

“Okay,” Rosie said after a moment, “I can finish my assignment later. Maybe after the movie.”

I kissed the top of her head. “That’s my girl. I’ll order the food, you go queue up the movie.”

Rosie bounded off the couch and ran to the living room, her footsteps light and carefree. I pulled out my phone again and found a place that did gourmet breakfasts. I splurged on a variety: blueberry pancakes, avocado toast, a selection of pastries, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.