We spent the afternoon wandering through the resort, Mum’s arm looped through mine like it had never let go. She became my guide, giddy and glowing, her happiness as vibrant as the tropical flowers blooming along the cobblestone paths.
The resort was a masterpiece. A hidden world carved into the island, wild and manicured all at once. Buildings rose from the jungle in soft curves of timber and glass, their architecture somehow respectful of the landscape instead of conquering it. Everywhere, water, flowing, tumbling, still. Infinity pools edged cliffs like mirrors, reflecting palm silhouettes and sky. Exotic birds trilled from somewhere overhead, their calls echoing through the canopy like flutes.
On the beach, the sand was so fine it sifted through my toes like the softest powder. I dipped my feet into the sea, the chill kissing my skin with delicate, teasing nips.
We browsed the boutique shops tucked between groves of plumeria trees, places that sold kaftans worth more than our monthly rent back in Sydney, and seashell earrings priced like diamonds. We laughed at it all, Mum and I, until I forgot I was supposed to feel lost. Forgot I was the guest in someone else’s fantasy.
As the sky caught fire and began to bleed itself dry in streaks of molten orange and lavender, we found a quiet table at an oceanfront café with an open-air terrace framed by hanging lanterns that swayed in the breeze like sleeping fireflies.
We ordered mocktails laced with crushed mint and hibiscus, and picked at plates of fresh fruit and delicate pastries I couldn’t pronounce.
For a second, I let myself pretend. Pretend this was just a vacation. A moment. A pause. Not a farewell to one life and a reluctant plunge into another.
“So,” Mum said after a while, her fingers idly stirring her drink. Her voice softened into something more tentative, edged with concern. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart. How are you really feeling? About all of this?”
I looked at her.Reallylooked.
She was glowing. Not just from the sun, but from something internal. A deep contentment that softened her eyes and curved her lips upward. Her smile was no longer tight or tired. There was life in it.
Wholeness.
And somehow, that made it harder to answer.
I drew in a breath, the sea breeze carrying the scent of tides and blooming jasmine, and stared at the vastness in front of us.
“It’s a lot,” I said finally. My voice barely made it past the rim of my glass. “All of it.”
She reached across the table and took my hand, her touch firm, grounding.
“I know.” Her voice trembled just slightly, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t yet. “I know it’s everything all at once. And I wish I could make it easier for you. I hate that you had to leave your friends. Your dad. Everything that’s familiar.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, quickly, fiercely. I squeezed her hand, like I needed her tofeelit. “It’s just… life. Circumstances. Dad’s dig. You living here. It feels like a chapter ended, and I didn’t get to write the last line. Like the story just… jumped to a new book, and I haven’t caught up.”
I swallowed hard.
“I miss him already. And Sienna. And Chiara. I know they’ll call, but… it won’t be the same.”
Mum’s expression shifted, a shadow flitting across her features like a cloud over the sun.
“I know what it’s like,” she said quietly. Her thumb stroked mine, slow and soothing. “To leave everything behind. When I left you and Jack, even though it was the right thing… it shattered something inside me. Every night I wasn’t there to tuck you in, every birthday I missed…it haunted me.”
Her gaze met mine, fierce and wet and apologetic.
“But you, Luna… you areresilient. You always have been. I see it in you, even when you don’t feel it. And this…Palo Alto, this new life…it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be yours.”
I bit my lip. Let her words sink into the sore, raw places inside me.
“I’m scared,” I whispered. “Of starting over. Of being… out of place.”
And I was scared of something else too. Of the stranger who kept finding me through glowing screens and whispered threats,someone who knew too much, as if they’d been standing just out of sight all along.
She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Then we’ll do it together,” she said. “One day at a time. And if you fall apart a little, that’s okay too.”
I nodded, but part of me still drifted out with the tide.
And though the resort was a dream, and my mother’s arms were a safe harbor… I could feel the storm beginning to pull on the edges of everything.
