The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the floor. The apartment felt quieter than usual, the hum of city life muted behind the thick gss windows.
It was a Saturday, which meant Stel didn’t have college csses, and Hazel found the absence of her usual routine almost disorienting.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to enjoy the stillness; it was the calm before a storm that she knew was coming.
Stel sat cross-legged on the couch, idly scrolling through her phone, occasionally throwing a gnce at Hazel.
The tension between them was palpable, thickening the air in the small apartment as both of them waited for their mother to arrive.
It wasn’t just that their mother would see Hazel differently; it was the weight of everything that would change in that moment. How much would their mother notice? How much would she understand?
Hazel stood by the kitchen counter, methodically arranging a few ingredients for breakfast. She set the toast to the side and scrambled a couple of eggs, careful not to let her movements seem too automatic, too perfect.
She didn’t need food, but Stel still did, and it gave a sense of normalcy that Hazel couldn’t quite shake.
"You’re quiet today," Hazel said, her voice soft but with a hint of amusement, hoping to break the silence that had settled between them.
Stel gnced up from her phone, offering a half-hearted smile. "Just... nervous. About Mom."
"She's going to have questions. You know that, right?"
Stel bit her lip, her eyes flicking away. "Yeah, I know. But... do you think she’ll notice? That you're... not you anymore?"
Hazel met her gaze in the reflection of the window. "She might. I can’t hide everything, but... we don’t have to tell her everything either."
Stel sighed and dropped her phone onto the coffee table, frustration creeping into her voice. "But it's not like we can keep lying forever. If she notices how different you are... it’s gonna be hard to expin. Or cover it up."
Hazel exhaled, a calm, measured sound. "We’ll deal with it as it comes."
She turned toward Stel and gave her a small, reassuring smile. "You don't need to worry about me, okay? I can handle Mom."
Stel bit her lip again, eyes narrowing slightly. “But what about you? How are you really handling this?”
The question caught Hazel off guard for a moment, but she kept her expression neutral. "I'm fine," she said, her tone firm. "Better than fine. The only problem right now is her."
She gestured toward the clock on the wall. "Mom’s arrival. That’s the only thing we need to worry about today."
Stel nodded slowly, but her gaze remained unsettled, darting between Hazel’s face and the clock.
The sound of the doorbell cut through the stillness, sharp and sudden. It was only 10:30 in the morning, too early for most visitors. Hazel's eyes flicked toward the door, and her breath caught just slightly. It was coming sooner than she expected.
“Right on time,” Hazel murmured, standing to her full height with a grace that had become second nature.
"Mom’s here?" Stel asked, springing to her feet in surprise.
Hazel nodded. "Get ready. I’ll handle the first round of questions."
Stel moved toward the door, but paused, giving Hazel one st lingering look.
"You're going to be okay?" Stel asked softly, as if asking Hazel to confirm something she wasn’t sure of herself.
Hazel offered a small, reassuring smile—though her insides churned with the weight of what was about to happen. “I’m fine, Stel. I’m always fine.”
The door creaked open under Stel’s hand, revealing the familiar, slightly stern face of their mother—tired eyes, purse slung over one shoulder, and a frown already beginning to form.
"Stel," she said, stepping inside and immediately scanning the apartment. Her eyes barely lingered before she spotted Hazel.
For a moment, silence stretched long and taut.
Hazel stood near the kitchen, arms folded loosely, dressed in a soft charcoal blouse and tailored scks, her inky bck hair falling in effortless waves down her back.
Her skin, pale but luminous, caught the morning light in a way that almost didn’t look real. Her amber-gold eyes met their mother’s, and a slow, practiced smile spread across her lips.
"Mom," Hazel said smoothly. "You’re early."
Their mother blinked, hesitation clear in the way she stayed near the doorway.
"You look..." She trailed off, brow furrowing deeper. "Different."
Hazel tilted her head slightly, voice gentle but measured. "It’s been a rough few weeks. The illness… it changed some things."
"No kidding." Her mother stepped further in, casting a quick gnce at Stel, who hovered awkwardly nearby. "Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was? I had to hear from your sister—your sister, Hazel."
Hazel’s smile didn't falter. “Because I didn’t want you to worry. I wasn’t sure what to say.”
“You always knew what to say before.”
That stung. Hazel’s smile faded by a degree.
Stel interjected quickly. “Mom, she’s okay now. She's just… still recovering. I’ve been here the whole time, and—”
“I can speak for myself, Stel,” Hazel said gently, her hand brushing Stel’s shoulder. “And I am okay. The doctors say I’m stable now, just adjusting.”
Their mother looked at Hazel again, harder this time. Her eyes lingered on the way Hazel’s body moved, the subtle perfection of her posture, the calm control that seemed to radiate from every inch of her.
"I want to believe that," she said. "But you look like someone else. Sound like someone else. It’s like I’m looking at a stranger with my child’s face."
Hazel didn’t flinch. She stepped forward with slow, fluid grace and gently pced a hand on her mother’s arm.
“I’m still me,” she said. “Even if I’ve changed.”
The door creaked open under Stel’s hand, revealing the familiar, slightly stern face of their mother—tired eyes, purse slung over one shoulder, and a frown already beginning to form.
"Stel," she said, stepping inside and immediately scanning the apartment. Her eyes barely lingered before she spotted Hazel.
For a moment, silence stretched long and taut.
Hazel stood near the kitchen, arms folded loosely, dressed in a soft charcoal blouse and tailored scks, her inky bck hair falling in effortless waves down her back.
Her skin, pale but luminous, caught the morning light in a way that almost didn’t look real. Her amber-gold eyes met their mother’s, and a slow, practiced smile spread across her lips.
"Mom," Hazel said smoothly. "You’re early."
Their mother blinked, hesitation clear in the way she stayed near the doorway.
"You look..." She trailed off, brow furrowing deeper. "Different."
Hazel tilted her head slightly, voice gentle but measured. "It’s been a rough few weeks. The illness… it changed some things."
"No kidding." Her mother stepped further in, casting a quick gnce at Stel, who hovered awkwardly nearby. "Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was? I had to hear from your sister—your sister, Hazel."
Hazel’s smile didn't falter. “Because I didn’t want you to worry. I wasn’t sure what to say.”
“You always knew what to say before.”
That stung. Hazel’s smile faded by a degree.
Stel interjected quickly. “Mom, she’s okay now. She's just… still recovering. I’ve been here the whole time, and—”
“I can speak for myself, Stel,” Hazel said gently, her hand brushing Stel’s shoulder. “And I am okay. The doctors say I’m stable now, just adjusting.”
Their mother looked at Hazel again, harder this time. Her eyes lingered on the way Hazel’s body moved, the subtle perfection of her posture, the calm control that seemed to radiate from every inch of her.
"I want to believe that," she said. "But you look like someone else. Sound like someone else. It’s like I’m looking at a stranger with my child’s face."
Hazel didn’t flinch. She stepped forward with slow, fluid grace and gently pced a hand on her mother’s arm.
“I’m still me,” she said. “Even if I’ve changed.”
Her mother didn’t pull away—but her muscles stiffened slightly beneath Hazel’s touch. A flicker of something passed across her face. Confusion. Concern.
She gnced down at Hazel’s hand, still resting lightly on her sleeve. “Your hand is cold,” she murmured, not quite accusing, but not ignoring it either.
Hazel paused, then withdrew it with a serene smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Side effect,” she said smoothly. “My circution’s not what it used to be.”
Her mother looked at her more closely now, the way a mother does when she senses something’s off but isn’t sure how deep the fracture runs. She opened her mouth to say something more—but stopped herself.
“…We’ll talk,” she said at st, her voice quieter now, uncertain. “All of us.”
Hazel nodded. “Of course.”
She turned slightly, the movement too graceful, too effortless, as she gestured toward the living room. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make tea. Stel, could you get the good cups?”
Stel nodded quickly, as though gd for something normal to do. Their mother lingered in pce a second longer before stepping into the apartment’s heart.
But her eyes followed Hazel, lingering on her back, her movement, and the lingering memory of that cold hand.
