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I 023. I
𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑽𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔
❝ december seventh ❞
IT WAS DECEMBER SEVENTH. It would have been her mom's thirty-ninth birthday. Thirty-nine years of fake dreams and lies.
Ariadne hadn't even gotten out of bed that morning. She had been up since three, mindlessly twisting her gold ring back and forth while imagining her mom celebrating her birthday in just a short few hours.
Her heart pinged with sadness.
Would Valentina be surprised with a nice breakfast in bed by her children and husband? Strawberry pancakes with whipped cream and extra syrup, like Ariadne remembered her grandparents always telling her. Would there be coffee that had more packets of sugar and a boat load of creamer? Surely, there would still be the pumpkin muffins she had seen her mom eat too many times a day to find a sense of normalcy in their odd lives.
A lump caught in her throat at the thought of her mom hugging and kissing her children, thanking them for the homemade cards while she laid there in a New York apartment, wondering what she had done wrong in her life to get there.
It wasn't all bad, but it still made her think.
Valentina was probably grinning and laughing at small puns her new husband made. She probably wasn't imaging her child had survived, more or less thinking about her first daughter, who was born basically an orphan thanks to neglect for five years.
It was stupid to believe that some part of the woman had simply cared for her first born. A stupid, but impactful thought, one that twisted her heart into tight knots.
Ariadne always felt alone that day. December seventh was one of her least favorite days, and the situation fit perfectly.
But her mind was beating itself up.
How could she even believe in the woman who had abandoned her at age five? The one who had caused her so much pain and harm, the one who seemed to consume her every negative emotion into one. It wasn't right to believe she even cared for her, but she couldn't give it up. Some part of her was still so tied to her birth mom it hurt her to recognize that she was never coming back for her.
Somewhere Valentina Phoenix was cuddled in soft, cream blankets while sunlight streamed onto her face. Somewhere there was a small family of four—possibly a dog—who were all laying in bed and sharing their favorite memories of the woman they had all come to know. Somewhere the gods could hear Ariadne's heart break, while smothered over by happy laughter and giggles.
