Her voice was so warm, so hopeful. She had no idea. I closed my eyes, feeling the bitterness of the lie I was about to tell.
“Oh... we’re, um, already out having dinner, actually.” The words felt sharp and cold on my tongue. I almost choked on them, fighting back the nausea creeping up my throat. It felt like a betrayal—not just to myself, but to her too.
There was a pause on the line, then a soft laugh. “Oh! You two are always one step ahead, aren’t you? Well, enjoy it. And tell Jaxon I say hello. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”
Her voice was filled with so much joy, and all I could do was hold onto my composure, my voice barely a whisper. “Will do, Mom. Love you.”
As I ended the call, my hand fell limply to my side, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The silence around me felt heavy, suffocating. I wanted to scream, to cry, to tell her the truth and feel her arms around me, telling me it would all be okay.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.