Chapter 34

***Alicent***

“You look tired, Mom,” Az says, his little voice cutting through the low murmur of conversations and the hiss of the bus engine.
The bus jerks forward, and I clutch the edge of the seat, steadying myself. It’s crowded like it always is at this hour. Every seat is taken, and people are crammed in the aisles, holding onto the metal poles or the overhead straps.
The air feels sticky with the faint smell of fast food from a bag a few rows ahead. I glance at my son beside me, his tiny hands gripping his backpack tightly.
“Maybe you should start taking naps,” he suggests.
I grin. He has no idea how tired I’m. “Maybe I should. With a sassy boy next to me.”
He giggles, “Where are you going to find someone like that, Mom?”
“Oh, I’ve got one right here,” I tickle his neck.
He laughs but then winces, and I stop. “For that to happen, I’d have to live with you,” he says, turning his eyes to the window.
Now it’s my turn to wince.
However, I shake my head, and I smile down at him, trying to keep my voice light. “Looks like it’s going to rain soon, huh?” I say, hoping to keep his mind off his disappointment as I nod towards the bus window, fogged up from all the warm breath inside and framed by the low, heavy clouds outside.
Even though Az’s been sleeping over at Logan’s place, I’m the one who’s been picking him up for school and bringing him back to his dad’s house.
He scrunches up his face, looking out the window. His nose nearly touches the glass. “Yeah, maybe a big storm like the one last night! There were so many big boom noises!”
I nod, smoothing a stray blond curl from his forehead. “Yeah,” I say, I can recall, and I don’t like it at all. Thank God he was safe and dry in his dad’s home.
The bus shudders again, and I tighten my grip on the seat, feeling the rough fabric against my palm.
“Mom... why are we on the bus today?” Az asks, looking up at me.
I take a breath, keeping my tone cheerful. “Oh, just a little change today, bud. The car’s feeling a bit tired, so it’s taking a nap. At least he’s doing what you suggest!”
He giggles, and for a moment, his worry seems to fade. “Cars don’t nap, Mom! That’s silly!”
I smile back, but there’s still a tightness in my chest. “Well, ours does! It’s a special kind of car,” I say, tapping his nose lightly. “Just the old ones get that.”
His brow furrows again like he knows something’s off. “When’s it going to wake up? When can I go home with you?”
I swallow, looking out at the gray sky for a second before answering. “Soon, buddy. Very soon. But hey, isn’t it fun to take the bus for a change?” I nod towards a woman a few rows down who is standing by the door; she’s wearing a neon green tracksuit and a huge, floppy hat covered in bright pink feathers. Her feather hat barely hangs on in the wind as the bus door closes behind her.
He follows my gaze and stifles a giggle, distracted for a moment. “She looks like a parrot!” he whispers, barely containing his amusement.
I laugh, the sound coming out a little louder than I mean to. “Shhh! Be nice,” I whisper back, grinning. But he still covers his mouth with his little hand, eyes twinkling.
The bus takes a sharp turn, and I feel him lean into me, his small body pressing against mine. “I miss you, Mom. I like Dad’s house, but... It’s noisy...” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Why can’t you live with us there?”
I bite back a sigh. “Az, we’ve already talked about this. I know, buddy. I miss you too. Every single moment. But...” My heart tightens.
His face turns serious. “Is everything okay, Mom?”
I force a smile. I can’t let him see. “Of course, honey. Everything’s just fine,” I say, giving him a quick squeeze. “Look at those clouds. Bet they’re racing to see who gets to the other side of the sky first.”
He peers up at the clouds, and I can see the worry still there lurking behind his eyes, but he nods slowly. “Yeah...” Az says without enthusiasm. Then he leans his head on my shoulder. “Mommy, I love you,” he whispers, almost like he’s trying to tell me he knows, but he’s gonna trust me anyway.
My heart tightens even more. He hasn’t called me mommy for a few years now.
I blink back, the tears threatening to spill. “I love you too, baby,” I whisper back, pressing a kiss into his blond hair, smelling the faint scent of his school lunch—peanut butter and jelly—mingling with the stale bus air.
The bus rumbles on, the city passing by in a blur of gray and headlights, and I hold him close, trying to keep the storm in my heart from reaching my voice. “I love you more than all the raindrops in those clouds.”

🐺 🐺 🐺

Right as I am about to leave the bus and make my way home, the rain finally starts pouring down. Good. At least the raindrops mask my tears.
I feel so guilty for subjecting my son to this situation. He is the one who is suffering the most. I brush away my tears as I enter the building.
Without even thinking, my feet instinctively guide me towards the stairs that lead to my old apartment, but as I ascend halfway, I suddenly recall that I no longer reside there, so I head to the basement instead.
The musty stench grows as I step down the stairs. When I open the studio door, at least the smell isn’t as bad as before. I’ve cleaned everything from top to bottom, so now I can actually stay in here without gagging.
At least Logan is calmer. When I dropped Az off, he even asked me if I wanted to come in. But from the glare in Chelsea’s eyes behind him, I refused. I know I did the right thing.
The studio is nearly empty, save for the few old personal things I have that haven’t been destroyed.
I sit on the floor, on top of the blankets that I’ve arranged to make my bed. God, how did I get here?
Tears run down my face, hot and relentless, and I clutch the edge of the blankets, my knuckles turning white. The small, dim studio feels like it’s closing in on me—the walls seem to press closer with every shaky breath I take. The apartment’s air vent is blowing stale air that smells like burned toast. That’s probably the reason why the neighbor’s fire alarm went off this morning.
I suck in a breath, trying to calm myself, but the sobs choke out of me, sharp and ragged, filling the silence with their ugly noise.
What am I going to do? I feel so lost. I miss my family so much.
I cover my mouth with my hand, my chest tight with panic and despair. I don’t even hear the first knock at the door, only the second one. A hard, deliberate thud that sends a jolt through my body. My heart lurches. I freeze, the sound echoing in my ears. I feel my pulse in my fingertips, quick and frantic.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Three more knocks. Each one louder, heavier than the last.
Oh God. Please, let it not be them!
Maybe I’ll see my dead family again sooner than I thought.
My breath catches in my throat. I quickly wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to erase any trace of my tears. But I know my eyes are probably red.
My hand trembles as I stand up, every nerve in my body screaming at me to stay still, not to move. But the knocking comes again, more insistent this time.
I glance at the door, the paint peeling around the edges, a single chain lock dangling loose. Who could it be at this hour? I swallow hard, my throat dry. I tiptoe towards the door.
My skin prickles with unease as my hand reaches for the doorknob, and I hesitate, my fingers hovering above the cold, brass metal.
I glance down at myself. My ripped jeans are held up on my hips by a trusty belt, and the old long-sleeve sweater adorning my body is undeniably one of my most cherished pieces.
At least I won’t die naked.
“Who is it?” I call out, my voice smaller than I intend, trembling at the edges.
No answer.
Only silence, so heavy I can almost hear my own heartbeat.
But the knocking comes again.
I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to turn around and hide, but where can I possibly hide in this tiny studio?
I slowly unlock the deadbolt, and the metallic click is loud in the stillness. My heart is pounding so hard now. I’m sure whoever is on the other side can hear it. I pull the door open just a crack, peering out cautiously.
A face. Too close, too sudden. I jump back with a gasp. My eyebrows scrunch up.
“Ethan?”