Ume's POV
The house smelled faintly of lavender and soil. My hands were freshly washed, and there was still a bit of dirt beneath my nails, but it didn't bother me. I liked the way it felt—real, grounding.
Maribel had gone quiet after Rey came home. She disappeared into the kitchen with him for a while, and when she came back out, her smile was gentle but distracted. Rey said something about being tired and went straight to the shower.
Something in the air had shifted. Not loudly, not sharply. Just enough for me to notice.
I sat on the small step outside the back door, the evening sun warming my skin. From where I sat, I could hear Maribel humming inside as she put something on the stove. I could hear the quiet creak of pipes, the shower running. A normal house. A normal day.
Still, my fingers fidgeted.
Something's off.
I shook the thought away. It wasn't my business. Not everything had to be a storm waiting to break. Not anymore.
Maribel stepped outside a few minutes later with two glasses of calming tea. "Here," she said, handing me one. "You've earned it."
I took it with a soft "Thanks," the warmness welcome against my palm.
We sat there for a while, just sipping and watching the sky bleed into orange.
"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?" I asked.
Maribel laughed softly. "You mean pregnant and covered in dirt?"
I smiled. "Yeah... something like that."
She leaned back, hand resting lightly on her belly. "Honestly? No. But I think maybe we ended up where we were supposed to."
I didn't answer right away. Just let her words hang in the air.
"Rey seems tense," I said after a beat.
Maribel glanced at me, and for a moment I thought she might say something.
Instead, she shrugged. "He's got a lot on his mind. But you know him—he broods first, talks later."
"True."
I tried to let it go. I wanted to believe it was just work. Just stress. Just the weight he always carried on his back. Not something darker.
So I nodded, sipped my drink, and leaned into the calm for the rest of the night.
———
Days turned into weeks. Then months.
Life at home was... different.
Not bad. Not exactly. But different.
Rey had taken it upon himself to act like some overbearing, self-appointed guardian.
Strict. Controlling. Watchful.
I couldn't go anywhere alone. If I so much as stepped outside for fresh air, he was there, watching. If I wanted to run errands, I had to take Maribel with me. If my phone rang, he wanted to know who and why.
It was suffocating.
I knew he meant well, but... I had already lost so much of my freedom. Now, even in a place that was supposed to be home, I felt caged.
"You need to relax," Maribel told him one afternoon.
We were in the kitchen, preparing lunch, while Rey sat at the table, arms crossed, watching us like a hawk.
"She's fine," Maribel continued, slicing vegetables with practiced ease. "You can't keep treating her like a child."
"She nearly died," Rey snapped.
I flinched. The words hung in the air like smoke. I hated how easily they still made my throat close.
Maribel stilled, then exhaled through her nose. "I know that," she said gently. "But she's here now. She's healing. And she can't do that if you're constantly hovering over her like a damn storm cloud."
I expected Rey to argue. Instead, he just grunted, rubbing his face.
Maribel gave me a small smile before tossing a piece of fruit at Rey's head.
"Ease up, Papa Lobo, (papa wolf) " she teased. "You're gonna give yourself gray hairs before the baby's even born."
Rey shot her a glare but didn't say anything.
Maribel was good at that. At balancing him.
And, somehow, she was good at helping me too.
She never pried. Never pushed. Never forced me to talk about what happened.
But she listened.
Some days, we talked about normal things—cooking, baby names, childhood memories. Other days, when the weight of it all sat too heavily on my chest, she would just sit beside me, offering silent comfort.
One day after coming back from shopping
We were placing things away and starting dinner.
The kitchen smelled warm—like spices, simmering broth, and something faintly sweet.
I sat at the counter, absently stirring a bowl of rice while Maribel worked at the stove. She moved so easily in the space, humming softly, her baby bump just barely brushing against the edge of the counter as she reached for a ladle.
"Hey, mind passing me that salt?" she asked.
I blinked out of my daze and grabbed it, handing it over.
She glanced at me, then back at the pot, and said, "You've been quiet today."
I forced a smile. "Just tired."
Maribel didn't buy it. She never did.
She gave the soup one last stir, then turned the stove off and wiped her hands on a towel. "Tired, huh?" She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Or thinking too much?"
I hesitated. Then, before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out.
"I feel like a burden."
Maribel's brows furrowed. "What?"
I kept my gaze on the rice bowl in front of me. "I wake up, and I just... feel like I'm taking up space that I don't deserve. Everyone tiptoes around me, like I'm fragile, like I might break at any moment. And maybe they're right. Maybe I'm not... whole anymore."
Silence.
I swallowed hard. "It's stupid, I know."
Then—warmth.
"Ume " she said gently, "you are not broken."
I let out a small, shaky laugh. "Feels like it."
Maribel shook her head. "You think strength only comes from fighting, but that's not true. Strength is getting up after everything you've been through. It's choosing to heal, even when it's easier to stay angry. It's letting people love you, even when you don't think you deserve it."
Her words settled deep, reaching places I didn't even realize I had locked away.
I clenched my jaw, looking away. "It's just... hard."
"I know," she murmured. "But you don't have to do it alone."
My vision blurred. I exhaled, my shoulders shaking.
before I knew it, Maribel pulled me into a hug. A real one. Not the careful, pitying embraces I had gotten from others, but something real.
I closed my eyes and let myself lean into it.
————-
After dinner was finished, but neither of us moved.
Rey had barely spoken during the meal, only giving short, clipped responses before heading to his office.
It was suffocating.
Which is why, when Maribel suddenly grabbed my hand and whispered, "Let's get out of here for a bit," I didn't hesitate to follow.
⸻
The night air was cool against my skin as we walked down a quiet street near the house. Maribel had insisted on bringing tea in two to-go cups, and now she held hers close, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.
We ended up near a small park, where a single bench sat beneath the glow of a streetlamp.
She sighed, tilting her head back to look at the sky. "Rey's always been intense," she muttered.
I let out a small laugh. "That's an understatement."
Maribel smiled, but there was something knowing in her eyes. She took a slow sip of her tea, then said, "He just wants to protect you. But I know what it's like to feel... trapped."
I glanced at her, curious.
She hesitated, then exhaled. "My mother died when I was seventeen. She got caught in a cartel fight."
The words came soft but steady.
I blinked. "Maribel..."
She gave a small, sad smile. "I didn't handle it well. I got reckless, shut people out. For a while, I thought if I just ignored the pain, it would go away. But it doesn't. It just builds and builds until you either deal with it, or it drowns you."
I stared at my tea, watching the steam curl into the air.
"You don't have to forget to move forward," she continued. "Healing isn't about pretending it didn't happen. It's about learning how to carry it without letting it consume you."
Her words settled deep.
I tightened my grip around my cup. "I don't know if I can."
"You can," she said firmly.
The lump in my throat grew. I swallowed, tried to keep it together.
"I... I loved someone."
My voice cracked, and I hated it.
Maribel turned slightly, still quiet, waiting. She always waited.
"His name was Kaoru Hanayama."
Saying it—saying his name—felt like tearing open a wound that hadn't scabbed over. I didn't even realize my fingers were digging into the fabric of my pants until I forced myself to let go.
"I thought..." I exhaled shakily. "I thought we understood each other. I thought what we had was... magical ."
A memory flickered—his hand brushing my hair back, the rare softness in his eyes when no one else was looking.
"I thought he'd stay. No matter what."
I laughed, bitter and broken.
"But he left. Like I was nothing. Like I never mattered at all."
Maribel was silent for a moment. Then—
"Maybe he didn't leave because he didn't care."
I frowned, looking at her.
She met my gaze, expression unreadable. "Maybe he left because he cared too much."
I scoffed. "That doesn't make sense."
"Doesn't it?" She tilted her head. "Sometimes, when people don't know how to deal with their emotions, they push away the things they love most."
My heart clenched.
No. Hanayama wasn't like that. He was strong. Solid. Unshakable.
Wasn't he?
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter anymore... I'm nothing to him..."
Maribel watched me for a long moment. Then, she reached out and gently squeezed my hand.
"It's okay to be angry," she said softly. "But don't let that anger keep you from healing."
I let out a slow breath, squeezing her hand back.
She always knew what to say—like she could reach into the storm of my thoughts and pull me back, piece by piece.
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Hope y'all enjoying season 2 :D