Latina hummed a soft tune as she placed the porcelain cup on the table, her eyes twinkling with a distinct mix of motherly warmth and mischievous intent. She watched Saria fidget in her seat, finding the young woman's nervousness utterly adorable. Seeing the perfect opening, Latina slid the cup forward with a graceful smile.
"Here, have some drink, dear," Latina said, a mischievous warmth in her voice.
"Thank you, mother," Saria replied, her voice soft but strained.
Saria's cheeks still burned from the last round of teasing. She quickly raised the glass and took a desperate gulp, hoping the cool liquid would extinguish the blush that was climbing her neck. Latina, however, had other plans.
"So, how far did you two go?"
"Ohh! Pfttt?!??!! Cough!! Cough!!" Saria erupted, the drink spraying across the table as she choked. She slammed the glass down, desperately clawing at her throat. The casual question—how far—echoed mockingly in her ears, making her feel simultaneously dizzy and scalded.
"Mother!" she gasped, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Please stop saying such things! We're not like that!"
Latina only smiled, an innocent, knowing curve of her lips. "Oh my. But don't you call me Mom?"
The playful interrogation continued, wearing Saria down until she was left with the final, unanswerable silence.
Latina watched her, the victorious smile fading into an anxious frown. Two years. Two years of these routines. Her son, Joshua, loved Saria, but his reserved insistence on mutual consent and waiting was maddening. Latina had tried everything to make her future daughter-in-law confront her feelings, but Saria remained stubbornly cemented in the friend zone.
What will it take? Latina wondered, her fingers tapping lightly on the ceramic mug. Something has to move her, something real. But it's not like a catalyst is going to fall out of the sky.
And then, the doorbell shrilled—a loud, decisive sound that cut through the silence.
"I'm back." Joshua's familiar voice called from the hall.
Saria's head snapped up. In an instant, the embarrassment vanished, replaced by an urgent, breathless relief. Her gaze flew past Latina, and she sprang to her feet, moving toward the front door with an almost desperate speed. A small, involuntary smile—a fleeting, unguarded hint of genuine happiness—briefly curved her lips.
Latina followed, a small, knowing smirk returning to her face.
"Welcome back Jo…!" Saria began, halting abruptly in the doorway.
"How was the te… oh my!" Joshua stopped mid-sentence, looking from the flustered Saria to his mother.
It wasn't just Joshua standing there. By his side stood a young girl, her blond hair tucked neatly beneath the collar of a thick, layered coat.
Saria's eyes widened to saucers. The relief she'd felt moments earlier was violently replaced by a cold, sickening lurch in her stomach. Her breath hitched and froze in her chest. All the color drained from her face, leaving her features stiff and ashen. Her eager momentum slammed into an invisible wall.
"I want you to meet my new friend." Joshua gestured proudly to the girl.
"Nice to meet you two, I'm Kristen Wright." Kristen offered a clam, formal smile.
"H…hi," Saria managed, the single word sounding shaky and paper-thin, catching in her dry throat. Her feet felt cemented to the floor, her entire focus locked on the well-formal girl who stood inches from Joshua.
Latina watched the scene unfold. A slow, predatory smile stretched across her face. This. This was the catalyst. The raw, unfiltered shock on Saria's face was better than any confession. This sudden, visceral fear—the fear of loss—was exactly the opportunity Latina had been waiting for. This couldn't be more perfect.