20. MOM

Alina paused for a moment, her hand tightening around the bag of groceries. She glanced around, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The street was as busy as ever, people going about their lives, unaware of the sudden dread that had settled over her.

Shaking her head, she tried to brush off the feeling, convincing herself it was just her imagination. “Get a grip, Alina,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”

But the unease didn’t leave. If anything, it grew stronger as she stepped inside the building. The lobby was empty, the usual hum of activity absent. The silence was deafening, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. Alina’s heart began to race, her earlier joy evaporating into thin air.

She hurried to the elevator, pressing the button with more force than necessary, her mind racing with irrational fears. “It’s nothing, just a weird feeling,” she told herself, but the words did little to calm her nerves.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and she stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as the doors closed behind her. The small space felt suffocating, the walls closing in on her as the elevator began its slow ascent.

As Alina stood in the dimly lit hallway, the eerie feeling that had plagued her earlier still gnawed at her, making her hesitate before unlocking the door. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, and pushed the door open, only to be met with a sight that nearly made her drop her bags.

Her once-tidy condo was in complete disarray. Cushions were thrown haphazardly across the living room, books lay scattered on the floor, and the curtains were drawn back at odd angles. The quiet, organized space she had left behind that morning now looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Her heart raced, a mix of confusion and frustration bubbling up inside her.

“What the—” she muttered under her breath, stepping cautiously into the room. She set the grocery bags down on the nearest surface and walked further into the condo, trying to make sense of the chaos.

Suddenly, a loud clatter came from the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable sound of utensils hitting the floor. Alina’s eyes widened, and she hurried towards the source of the noise, bracing herself for the worst.

When she reached the kitchen, she froze, her frustration boiling over as she took in the scene before her. There, in the middle of the mess, was her mother, rummaging through the cabinets like a raccoon on a mission, clearly searching for something to eat. Pots and pans lay strewn across the floor, their contents spilled and smeared on the tiles.

Alina couldn’t help but groan, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. “Mom! What are you doing? I spent half the day cleaning this place!” she cried out, her voice laced with a mix of disbelief and irritation.

Her mother, seemingly oblivious to the mess she had created, turned around and gasped theatrically, clutching her chest as if Alina had just delivered the most hurtful blow. “Is this what I raised you for?” she exclaimed dramatically, her eyes wide with exaggerated shock. “To scold your own mother like this? Was this the day I was born for, to hear such harsh words from my own daughter?”

Alina rolled her eyes, recognizing the familiar pattern of her mother’s melodramatic antics. “Oh, please, don’t start with the emotional blackmail,” she said, her tone weary but affectionate.

“I’m just saying, you could at least try not to destroy the place every time you come over.”

Her mother’s expression shifted to one of wounded pride as she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Destroy? I was simply trying to find something to eat, and this is the thanks I get? Honestly, I don’t know how you’ll survive without me.”

Alina sighed, knowing there was no winning this argument. She shook her head, resigned to her fate, and began picking up the fallen utensils, placing them back on the counter. “You know, Mom, you could’ve just asked me. I would’ve made something for you.”

Her mother watched her with a critical eye, her dramatic flair still in full force. “You grew up, but only in age, not in brains,” she muttered, her tone laced with a mix of affection and exasperation. “What kind of daughter scolds her mother for being hungry?”

Alina couldn’t help but chuckle at that, her earlier frustration fading as she got to work cleaning up the mess. “The kind of daughter who spent hours making this place look presentable, only for it to be turned upside down in minutes,” she replied, her voice lightening as she fell into the familiar rhythm of banter with her mother.

As she swept the floor and straightened the cabinets, her mother continued to grumble good-naturedly, offering unsolicited advice on how to properly arrange the kitchen. Alina listened with half an ear, smiling to herself as she worked. Despite the chaos and the constant commentary, she couldn’t help but feel a warmth in her heart.

No matter how dramatic or frustrating her mother could be, these were the moments she cherished,the shared laughter, the teasing, and the undeniable bond that connected them. And as she finished tidying up, Alina couldn’t help but think that, despite the mess, it was good to have her mother around.

After all, life would be far too quiet without a little bit of chaos to keep things interesting.