When the Story Continues (Sequel to When the Script Changes)

Chapter 22: Secrets Between Heartbeats

The moment Mon stepped out of the car and into the cool winter air, she felt it—that warmth of being home.

It didn't matter that snow dusted the roads, that the sky was a deep shade of gray, or that her breath turned to mist with every exhale.

The moment Mon saw her moms standing at the beginning of the gate to the house—Freen holding a thermos of hot chocolate, Becky wrapped in a thick scarf, both of them waving excitedly—she felt like a kid again.

Like she had never left at all.

She dropped her bags and ran straight into their arms.

Freen caught her first, pulling her into a tight hug. "There's our girl!" she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Mon's head.

Becky wasn't far behind, practically shoving Freen aside to squeeze Mon tightly. "You've been gone for too long! Let me look at you!" She pulled back, eyes scanning Mon's face like she was checking for any signs of distress.

Mon laughed. "Mama, I was only gone for a few months this time."

"A few months too long," Becky huffed, smoothing down Mon's hair even though it didn't need fixing. "You're eating well, right? Sleeping enough? Not skipping classes?"

Freen smirked. "Yeah, let's start with the important stuff—is your dorm room clean, or do we need to call in a rescue team?"

Mon rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom, it's clean. And yes, Mama, I'm taking care of myself."

Freen and Becky exchanged a look, clearly not convinced.

But Mon just looped her arms through theirs, dragging them toward the house. "Come on, let's go inside. I've missed everything."

And she meant it.

Even as she kept a small, quiet secret tucked inside her chest.

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Mon hadn't planned to hide Sam.

But somewhere between the warm, familiar hugs and the nostalgic laughter, she found herself avoiding her name.

It wasn't that she was ashamed.

Or that she didn't think her moms would approve.

It was just...

Sam was different.

She wasn't just another college crush.

She wasn't just someone Mon was testing the waters with.

Sam felt like something more.

And for some reason, Mon wasn't ready to share that yet.

So, when they sat around the dinner table that night, with steaming bowls of Becky's famous curry and the dogs curled up at their feet, Mon told them everything about college—

Her classes.

Her professors.

The all-nighters she pulled in the library.

The way she accidentally spilled coffee on her laptop but miraculously saved it.

The new friends she made.

The ones she studied with.

The ones she definitely didn't party with (or at least, that's what she told them).

But when Freen casually asked, "So, anyone special?" with a teasing wiggle of her eyebrows—

Mon just laughed.

Shrugged.

Took a sip of her water and lied through her teeth.

"Just my friends," she said. "Nothing special."

Becky squinted at her. "You sure? You're glowing a little too much for 'just friends.'"

Mon forced a playful eye roll. "Mama, I literally just got home, and you're already on detective duty?"

Freen chuckled. "She's been waiting all semester for this."

Becky didn't even deny it. "Of course, I have! You're growing up, Mon, and I refuse to be left out of your romantic adventures!"

Mon just shook her head, laughing, but inside, guilt twisted in her stomach.

Because the truth was—she was lying.

And she didn't even know why.

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The first time Mon went out during winter break, she told her moms she was meeting up with an old friend from high school.

The second time, she said she was studying at a café.

The third, that she was just "grabbing dinner with some friends."

Every single time, she never mentioned Sam.

And every single time, she felt that same guilt creeping in.

But then she'd see Sam—waiting for her at the corner of a quiet street, hands shoved in her coat pockets, eyes lighting up the second Mon arrived—

And suddenly, none of it mattered.

Because being with Sam felt safe.

Like she could forget about the weight of her secret.

Like the world outside didn't exist.

They walked through snow-covered parks, hands brushing but never quite holding.

They shared coffee from the same cup, Sam always letting Mon have the first sip because "you like it sweeter than I do."

They sat in the back corner of a quiet bookstore, fingers intertwined under the table, talking about nothing and everything.

And for those moments, Mon could pretend that there wasn't a storm of half-truths waiting for her at home.

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What Mon didn't realize—

Was that her moms were hiding something too.

It wasn't obvious.

Not at first.

But as the days passed, Mon started noticing the little things.

Like how Becky and Freen would exchange knowing glances when they thought she wasn't looking.

Or how they'd whisper quiet conversations behind closed doors.

Or how Becky, who could never keep a secret for long, would start to say something—then stop herself.

Something was up.

And Mon was going to figure it out.

But not before she came clean about her own secret first.

She just wasn't ready yet.

And neither, it seemed, were her moms.

Because in a house filled with love, there were suddenly too many secrets between them.