Archive of Our Own

motherhood

i.

One of the first things Tiadrin learns after having Rayla is that being a mother is hard. It sounds a bit stupid put that way, but it's so much more than not sleeping and not eating and changing diapers and cleaning up. You're hard on yourself, too, because all anyone wants to be is a good mum, and there's judgement from everywhere, and everyone. There are mums who make it feel like a competition, and mums whose overbearing anxiety make her feel anxious, and mums who have no concept of what the word boundary even means— 

It's a lot, is the point. It's mentally and emotionally exhausting almost more than it is physically, and finding mum-friends who are like-minded whose philosophies match her own is even harder still.

Then she meets Sarai.

Rayla is thirteen when she does. They're on a tour of a private school in Spire. It's got a first rate arts program that would foster Rayla's love of ballet better than any other school, and it's a little on the expensive side because she'd have to board there but Rayla had begged and begged to just go and see it and... well...

Tiadrin thought she'd be a stricter mum, but with a daughter as talented and as passionate as Rayla, she hadn't had the heart to say no. With a little extra training, Rayla might be scholarship material by the time auditions for admission roll around anyway, and she'll be damned if she stands in the way of an opportunity like that.

Besides, it's a nice school. It's clean, and the facilities are well-maintained, and the vice-principal, Mr. Ibis, keeps rattling off statistics that are hard to argue with.

"You're welcome to have a wander, if you wish," says Mr. Ibis—more to the kids present than to their parents. "Mums, Dads, now's the time to ask questions if you have any."

The handful of kids don't need telling twice. They meander off in groups of two or three, and Rayla heads off with the boy she’s been hanging around all morning. In some ways, she’s not surprised—they look out of place in the crowd of chattering, rich looking kids, but he has kind eyes, an awkward smile, and a sense of humour Lain would love. She lags behind as they examine the grounds, keeping a practised eye on her daughter from a distance, and suddenly finds herself alone with the one other mum who's chosen not to immediately ambush Mr. Ibis with questions.

"You'll be Rayla's mom, then?"

Tiadrin blinks. The accent is Katolan—softer rounded R’s, mom instead of mum— and the other mum grins and nods at the kids in the distance. 

“My son, Callum,” she says, jutting her chin towards the boy. “Wants to get into the visual arts program here.”

“Oh,” says Tiadrin. She chuckles awkwardly. “Right. Of course. Rayla likes arts too, although she’s got her heart set on their performing arts program.”

“No kidding!” says the other mum. “For dance, or drama, or…?”

Tiadrin pauses there, because she’s had this conversation with a lot of other mums who have followed up immediately with, “Well, my child is the best in their class in x,” which is tiring and, honestly, kind of stupid. Growing up isn’t a competition despite the fact that there are some parents who insist on making it one, and Tiadrin’s not going to force her daughter to compete with anyone just to top statements like those. 

The other mum seems genuine, though. Her smile is eager and honest, like she’d be proud of Rayla too, if she knew to be. 

“Ballet,” says Tiadrin at last, allowing her guard to slip. 

“Oh, of course!” chuckles the other mum. “You can see it in the way she walks, she’s so graceful. How exciting! She must be very talented!”

“We like to think so,” chuckles Tiadrin. “She picked this school herself, so their dance curriculum must be decent.” She pauses there and glances at their kids again. “What about—um—Callum, was it?”

The other mum nods eagerly. “He’s an artist. Been drawing since he was a little kid. I think he’s a little lost about where to go from there though. Can’t decide between fine arts or animation. He’s hoping the visual arts program here might give him some direction.”

Tiadrin raises an eyebrow at her. “You don’t have a preference for what he should do?”

“Even if I did, it’s not up to me,” says the other mum, shrugging. “I’m just grateful he’s so passionate about it.” She slouches into a bench by a flower bed, happy to watch her son and Rayla make jokes to each other about middle-school life. It’s getting pretty close to the definition of flirting , with all the playful shoving and the giggling, but they’re thirteen, and they probably don’t mean anything by it. Tiadrin’s just glad Runaan’s not here to make the poor boy’s life miserable before they’ve even gotten anywhere. The other mum follows her gaze and laughs. “He’s a sweetheart, don’t you worry,” she says, grinning. 

“I wasn’t,” says Tiadrin, probably a little too quickly. Ultimately, she wasn’t worried about that , anyway. Rayla’s just never been particularly forward, and it’s gotten in the way in the past. She purses her lips. “It’s… just good to see her making friends.”

The other mum cocks her head. The question is obvious in her face, but she doesn’t ask it, which is nice. It gives Tiadrin the option not to answer it if she’d rather not, but there’s no malice in her eyes, or pity in her smile. Just curiosity, and understanding if Tiadrin doesn’t want to share.

It makes Tiadrin drop her guard a little more, and for her consideration, she shrugs. “She’s never had the easiest time with other kids,” she says quietly. “She doesn’t really like being around a lot of other people and she likes to dance more than she likes to socialise. I think other kids just think she’s… a little intense.”

“Ah,” says the other mum, nodding sagely. “Callum’s a bit like that too, if that helps,” she says. “He’s always been a quiet kid. He used to spend his lunches drawing instead of playing with the other kids. They all thought it was weird.” She chuckles a little at the memory. “But you know what? Weird isn’t so bad. They have hobbies and interests that they’re proud of, and I think that’s why they were drawn to each other today. Like-minds find each other, y’know?”

“I… suppose,” says Tiadrin. She glances at their kids again and feels her shoulders settle at the width of Rayla’s smile. It’s rare to see her relax like that, let alone with people she’s never met. Goodness knows, it’s comforting to know she’ll have a friend when the semester starts and she’s so far away from home.

“Is she your oldest?” 

Tiadrin nods. “My only,” she clarifies. 

The other mum smiles. “You’ve done a wonderful job with her. She’s a sweet girl. I’m Sarai, by the way.”

Tiadrin hesitates, but then she smiles too. “Tiadrin,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Sarai grins. “Likewise.”

ii.

Rayla gets in without a fuss because of course she does, but they offer her a scholarship too, which is easily worth the party they throw for her the weekend before she goes. They’re not a poor family, but they’re not particularly well off, either, so the financial burden of sending Rayla to a school with a program she deserves is one less thing to worry about as they pack her things and see her off.

Runaan and Ethari come by for dinner on Saturday, and they order pizza and toast to her with wine glasses full of soda; they take pictures, obviously, because it’ll be Rayla’s last weekend home for… a while ; they spend the evening playing board games, and snacking on popcorn and chocolate, and they don’t go to sleep until well past midnight, despite the fact that they have to be up early the next day. Then Sunday rolls around and they’re putting together the last of her things, and zipping up her suitcase, and then Lain’s driving them off to the station to catch the midday train to Spire.

It’s a good weekend. A quick weekend. Tiadrin clings to every second of it, silently begging for it to slow, because she doesn’t want to be away from her daughter, even though she knows it’s time to let her go.

She’s going to be fine, she tells herself, over and over again, a mantra she’s desperately trying to force herself to remember. 

But they arrive at the ticket station, and Rayla’s rolling her bags across the tiles, and then she’s hugging Lain goodbye. 

Tiadrin’s going with her to help her unpack and settle into the dorms, but Moon and Stars, if this isn’t the most heartbreaking thing she’s ever had to witness, she doesn’t know what is. Lain swallows his tears and puts on a happy face for his little girl, and he sees her all the way to the turnstile until he can’t go any further.

“Be safe, my love!” he calls after them, and Rayla waves him off and bounds towards the platform. Tiadrin pauses before she follows to offer her husband an encouraging, albeit weak, smile. He coughs. “She’ll be okay, won’t she?”

Tiadrin nods. “Of course,” she says. “And if she needs anything, we’ll drive right over. Right?”

“Right.” Lain nods, a little teary but proud all the same, and kisses her cheek quickly over the turnstile. “I’ll see you this evening.”

Tiadrin nods back, and then Lain turns and heads back down to the car, and she’s left with the truly terrifying reality that Rayla really is going away now. She won’t be home again for months, and December feels like so far away , and—

Tiadrin coughs. There’s an ache in her heart and tears in her eyes, and if she thinks about this concept any more than she needs to right now, she’ll start crying before she even gets to the train station platform. Rayla doesn’t need to see that. This is her adventure, and she’s so excited , and Tiadrin’s emotions, however valid, aren’t going to be the thing that dampens her spirits today.

So they board the train. An hour and a half usually feels like forever on public transport, but it zips by as quickly as the scenery does, and then they’re disembarking in Spire and flagging a taxi to the school dorms. Rayla checks in with the dorm supervisor who gives her a key and a welcome pack, and Tiadrin follows her until they get to her room.

It’s pretty standard: two single beds, two freestanding wardrobes, a creaky ceiling fan, and a window overlooking campus, but to Tiadrin it’s so cold, and so big, and it’s not home.

“Last chance to pull out, my darling,” she says, hoping it sounds like the joke that she means. “Dad’s devastated you don’t want him to be your PE teacher, you know.”

Rayla snorts at that. “He’ll manage,” she cheeks. And then, a little more soberly, she adds, “I’ll be okay, Mum. Promise.”

Tiadrin nods. “I know you will be,” she manages around the lump in her throat. “You’re so brave, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s only boarding school, Mum,” laughs Rayla. “It’s not gymnastics at the Olympics like you and Dad used to.”

“This is a different kind of scary, love,” chuckles Tiadrin. She holds her arms open and tugs Rayla into one tight, final hug and presses a kiss into her forehead. “If you need anything at all—”

“I’ll call,” says Rayla. “Promise. I’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Tiadrin sniffles a little, but she smooths Rayla’s hair back and presses her nose against hers. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mum,” says Rayla, although there’s a hitch in her voice too and it takes everything Tiadrin has not to start crying then and there. “See you in the fall?”

“See you in the fall.”

 And that’s it. Tiadrin shuts Rayla’s door as she goes, thumps back down the stairs, past reception and gets all the way to the station before she allows her heart to break. She must look like a madwoman, sitting alone at a train station bench, sobbing quietly into her hands, when someone takes a seat beside her and offers her a tissue.

“Just dropped off too, huh?” says a voice. It’s a little teary too, but it’s familiar. Tiadrin can’t quite place it until she looks up and finds the mum she met—Sarai, she thinks—at open day, looking just as emotional. “I get that.”

Tiadrin chokes out a laugh. “Sarai, right?”

“You remembered!” chuckles Sarai, sniffling into her own tissue. “Oh, if that wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“You’re telling me,” says Tiadrin, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “She was so excited. And she was always going to grow up and move away but…”

“Yeah,” laughs Sarai. “Callum was—he was okay. He managed better than I did, anyway. We had our cry and our hug and… he’s gonna be fine. Rayla will be too, you’ll see.”

“I know she will be,” Tiadrin sniffs. “They’re both going to take this place by storm. Poor sods won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“You bet,” says Sarai. ”You’re a wonderful mom, Tiadrin. It takes courage to let your only go like that.”

“You too.” Tiadrin clears her throat and blows her nose into the tissue. “Callum’s your oldest, isn’t he? Leaving him must have been heartbreaking.”  

“Ooh, it was,” chuckles Sarai. “Look at us. We must look ridiculous.”

Tiadrin scoffs. There are other parents on the platform too that look less worse for wear, but this bench has seen more than its fair share of mothers leaving their kids at the dorms for the first time. She shakes her head. “We look like mums,” she says firmly, bravely, with more conviction now because she knows she’s not alone. “There’s nothing ridiculous about that.”

“No,” agrees Sarai with a laugh. “There’s not.” 

iii.

They go out for coffee before their trains get in—they’re both heading east, and then Sarai has to transfer to another one that heads north after the line ends—and Tiadrin had known she lived in Katolis, but it only strikes her on the way home how much further away that is. It’s an hour-long drive for her and Lain—an hour and a half by public transport, but if they need to see Rayla that urgently, they’ll be driving anyway—and that feels like far too long on its own. Another hour on top of that?

She shudders.

“Call me if you need anything,” she offers, tapping her number into Sarai’s phone. “Anything at all. If there’s an emergency, or if Callum needs anything, or if you just need to talk because you miss him— anything. ”

Sarai chuckles, but she takes Tiadrin’s phone and does the same. “That offer goes for you too, then,” she says, adding a little smiley to the end of her name. “This mom business is so hard. It’s nice to have a friend.”

“Don’t I know it,” chuckles Tiadrin. She bids Sarai goodbye when the train pulls into her station, and waves as it gets moving again and disappears into the horizon. When she meets Lain at the station pick up point, her heart is still heavy, but it’s lighter than it was, and she has Sarai to thank for that.

They check in on each other every couple of weeks while their kids are at school. They gossip about their kids’ obvious blossoming crushes on each other. They start sending each other memes about #mumlife. Tiadrin learns that Sarai’s husband’s name is Harrow, and that Callum has a little brother called Ezran who (thankfully, according to Sarai) doesn’t want to go to school so far away. She was a journalist, back in the day, but these days she spends her time editing drafts of novels because it’s easier to work at home.

In turn, Tiadrin tells Sarai about Lain, and Runaan and Ethari, about her competitive days as an Olympic gymnast, and how she only coaches now because of the complications of having a baby.

“Pregnancy messed up my hips,” she tells her on one of their monthly phone calls. "I wouldn't do it any different, though. I wouldn't trade Rayla for all the medals in the world."

Then, in November, as the weather gets colder and the holidays draw near, Tiadrin gets a different phone call—from her own mother, whom she hasn’t spoken to in years.

“Come home for the holidays, Tiadrin,” she says. It’s closer to an order than a request. “You’ve been away from the family long enough. It’s time to grow up.”

That’s a whole other can of worms that Tiadrin hasn’t opened since she shut it tight years and years ago. It’d taken months to feel like herself again, to feel competent as a mother, and to even feel confident as a person, because her own mother was— 

She shakes her head. “We’re busy this year,” says Tiadrin shortly. “Sorry.”

Her mother bristles. “I haven’t seen my granddaughter in nearly a decade, Tiadrin. She doesn’t even know who I am.”

“That’s not her problem,” snaps Tiadrin. “Do you even understand why I haven’t spoken to you in years?”

“I understand you’re being stubborn,” sneers her mother. “You’re being ridiculous. Rayla needs to meet the rest of her family.”

Tiadrin almost laughs. “No,” she snarls. “She doesn’t.” She hangs up then, before she loses what’s left of her cool, and for the first time, she’s glad that Rayla’s away because the sorrow, and the guilt, and the rage that flood her system is so overwhelming that she almost drops the phone.

Lain catches the look on her face before she even gets anywhere.

“Hey,” he says. “Are you okay?”

Tiadrin swallows. Her throat hurts. Her heart is pounding in her chest. It’s so hard to breathe all of a sudden, and she only remembers how to when Lain slips his hand into hers. 

“Hey,” he says again. “What’d she say?”

“Nothing,” chokes Tiadrin. “Nothing—nothing new. I just—I need a minute.”

Lain pauses, studying the way she scrunches her eyes and the tightness of her grip around her phone. He was there when this happened the first time—or rather, when it happened every time, and then saw the fall out of the final straw. He’d had to deal with her breakdowns for months afterwards, and Tiadrin is ever grateful for him because it meant that she would never do the same to Rayla. At last, he nods, he smiles, he squeezes her hand, so used to this that he knows what she needs before she does, and presses a kiss against her temple. “I’m here, okay? When you’re ready, and if you want to, we can talk.”

Tiadrin nods, numb and shaking, but the phone feels warm in her hand, and, for the first time, she knows someone else she can call. “Thank you,” she mutters. “I just—”

“I get it,” says Lain gently. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Then he leaves, and Tiadrin takes one long, shuddering breath and scrolls for Sarai’s name in her phone.

It rings three times before Sarai answers.

“Tia!” she greets happily. “Didn’t we catch up, like, two days ago? Although I can’t say I blame you for missing me—I like talking to me, too.”

When Tiadrin doesn’t laugh straight away, Sarai sobers. 

“Hey. What’s wrong? Is Rayla okay?”

Tiadrin lets out a breath. “Rayla’s—Rayla’s fine. I’m sorry to bother you so late. I just—erm—”

“Don’t apologize,” says Sarai sharply. “I can hear it. I can literally hear you thinking about it. Don’t. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Talk to me.”

Tiadrin nods and tries again. “My—my mother called,” she mumbles. “It’s—er—it’s a long story, and if you don’t—”

“I do,” interrupts Sarai firmly. “I want to listen. Tell me what happened.”

So Tiadrin does. She tells her about her brothers, and how much her parents favoured them; about the expectation that she be better and more mature ; about the burden of being forced to take responsibility for their every conflict because she’s older, she should know better, she shouldn’t fight back. She tells Sarai how constantly her own parents undermined her, how poorly they treated Lain, and how they made her marriage feel like she was just playing house . She tells her about the emotional breakdowns her family caused after she had Rayla, the months of therapy it took to remind her that she had worth and was worthy of love, and when she’d finally, finally allowed herself to believe it, how they tore her down again for the crime of standing up for herself.

And Sarai listens. She offers no judgement or praise or advice. She’s no stranger to listening to Tiadrin cry over the phone these days because they’ve both done it for each other  (on the hard days, when missing their kids became a little much)—but this is different. These are not tears because she misses Rayla.

These are tears because she misses the concept of her mother. They are tears mourning a relationship she never had. They are tears because she deserved better.

“Oh Tia,” breathes Sarai when she’s finished. “Oh, honey. You’ve been so brave.”

Tiadrin hiccoughs and rubs the heel of her hand into her eyes. “I thought I was over this,” she mumbles. “I thought… I haven’t spoken to my family in years and—”

“Tia,” says Sarai gently. “You don’t have to be over this. It’s okay.”

“I know,” sniffles Tiadrin. “I know. I just need a minute.”

“You just need to breathe. You can take longer than a minute if you need it.” There’s a huff on the line, and Tiadrin gets the feeling that Sarai is settling in for a long talk about big feelings. “You’re hurt,” she says at last. “And you have every right to be. What your family did to you was unacceptable and, even now, it’s okay to be upset about it.”

And Tiadrin, who’s already emotional and vulnerable and a lot of a mess, hiccoughs again. “I miss them,” she admits quietly—because she does. Rayla doesn’t know her grandparents, and deep down, there’s a sense of guilt there for depriving her of that relationship. But the alternative? The emotional abuse she’d have to endure? The constant anxiety of needing to please someone who couldn’t be pleased? She grimaces and shakes her head. 

“You miss the idea of them,” Sarai tells her. “You miss the idea of a happy childhood they didn’t provide. And that’s okay. Those feelings are real, and you’re allowed to feel them.”

“They still suck,” mutters Tiadrin, and Sarai chuckles.

“Yeah,” she says. “They do. But you know what? You got yourself out. You recognized the signs of something wrong, of something unhealthy, and you said no. You rescued yourself. You shielded your daughter from a life of toxicity. You took all the extra steps you needed to to make sure Rayla would never be treated the way they treated you. And Tia—that’s amazing. You’ve been so brave , and I’m so proud of you for knowing you should have been treated better.”

In spite of herself, Tiadrin laughs. There’s warmth bubbling in her chest now—a catharsis now that the worst of the storm has passed. “You make a wonderful therapist,” she teases, sniffling still.

Sarai snorts. “I’m a mom,” she chuckles. “And you are too. You are an amazing mother and you deserve to believe it.”

And Tiadrin breathes a full breath for the first time since her mother called, and chuckles. “Thank you,” she mutters. “I wish I was more like you.”

“ I didn’t raise Rayla,” Sarai points out. “You did. And I think that speaks for itself, don’t you?”

 It does, and Tiadrin laughs and lets herself agree.  

iv.

Tiadrin wakes early one February morning to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand. It’s still dark outside, and Lain shifts in the bed beside her and tries to tug her closer in his sleep. She chuckles to herself and lets him, but she leans carefully out of his grasp just for a minute to snatch clumsily at her phone.

There are four missed calls from the school and a single text from Rayla.

Tiadrin stares. She opens Rayla’s text first.

Hi mum, it reads. First of all, don’t panic. We’re all fine. Second, can you ring me when you get this? There’s been… an incident.

Whatever remnants of sleep were still in her system leave her immediately, and while Rayla had opened with don’t panic, Tiadrin’s first (and for a minute, only) instinct is to panic immediately. She pats Lain’s arm.

“Lain,” she hisses.  “Lain. My love. Something’s happened.”

“Mm?”

Tiadrin extricates herself from his arms without waiting for him to wake, her fingers already tapping furiously at the call button. Her breath catches in her throat as she waits for Rayla to pick up, each ring terrifyingly long and unending, until—

“Hi Mum.”

Tiadrin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Rayla. Honey. What’s going on? What do you mean ‘an incident’? Are you okay?”

“Fine!” says Rayla. “I’m fine. We’re all okay, I promise. The—er—school may have tried to call you a couple of times this morning.”

Four times, actually, which does nothing to soothe Tiadrin’s nerves. “They did,” she says, forcing her voice to stay level. “What’s happened?”

“Swear you won’t freak out.”

Tiadrin presses her lips together. “My love, opening with that is only going to make me freak out more,” she says drily. 

Rayla snorts. “Yeah. Fine. Erm.” She coughs. “There was a fire.”

“WHAT?”

Lain jolts upwards in bed with a yelp, his breath heavy, but Tiadrin ignores him and makes a grab for the used pair of jeans she’d left on her armchair before she’d settled in. The lamp switches on, and Lain blinks in the yellow light, still half-asleep but awake enough to know that something’s happened. “Is everything okay?”

Tiadrin puts Rayla on speaker by way of answer.

“—and nobody got hurt, but the school’s gotta close down for a couple of weeks so they can fix it and—”

“Rayla,” interrupts Lain, his brow creasing ever more as he realizes what’s going on around him. “Honey. Slow down. What happened?”

Rayla takes a breath. “One of the boys in Avizandum House was screwing around with his phone battery—thought he could give it a longer battery life if he fiddled with it a little. Anyway, he plugged it in to charge it overnight and he must have screwed it up or something because it—uh—it overheated, and then it blew up.”

“Moon and Stars,” breathes Tiadrin, half dressed.  

Lain, fully awake now, snatches at the phone. “Honey, are you okay? Is anyone hurt?”

“We’re okay,” promises Rayla. “The girls’ dorms are all fine—we only heard about it when the wardens came to wake us. But—er—they’re sending us all home for a couple of weeks while they finish renovations so… surprise holiday I guess? I was wondering if you could do us a favour?”

“Us?” asks Lain.

“Ah, yeah.” That’s Callum’s voice. He pops in on Rayla’s calls sometimes, and Tiadrin knows him now from all of Sarai’s stories, but they’ve never really spoken beyond the standard “Hi Callum,” and “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Docherty,” of Rayla’s weekly phone call. He coughs. “My mom and dad are away in Lux Aurea right now visiting my aunt. The school can’t get a hold of them and my phone is… uh…”

It’s three o’clock in the morning. Tiadrin has a jumper halfway over her head. The pieces click into place.

“Callum, tell me it wasn’t your phone that blew up.”

“It didn’t ‘blow up’!” he whines. Tiadrin wants to laugh in spite of everything because the poor boy sounds so distressed and it’s pretty clear that yes, it did. “I told Soren not to plug it in, and he did because he thought he was being nice but I told him—”

It’s funny now that they know everyone’s okay, and now that they know why it happened, and in the morning, when it’s all blown over, Tiadrin’s certain that Callum’ll probably find it funny too. Rayla’s already snickering in the background, which probably isn’t making things better, but either way Tiadrin hides her laughter in the sleeve of her jumper while Lain climbs out of bed at last.

“Do—er—the teachers know?” asks Lain, pressing his lips together.

Tiadrin can practically picture his blush. “N-no,” says Callum. “It’s—it’s being written up as an accident. The wiring in Avizandum House is—is pretty old, so, I mean, it probably wasn’t my phone, but um—”

It probably was, but Tiadrin doesn’t say that. She takes the phone back from Lain so he can change. “We’re coming now,” she says. “We probably won’t be there for a while, but we are coming. I’ll call your mum, Callum. And I won’t tell her you blew up the dorm, don’t you worry.”

Callum breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks Mrs. Docherty,” he mumbles.

“Is he all right to stay with us for a few days too?” asks Rayla. “Mr. and Mrs. Prince won’t be back from Lux Aurea until next week.”

“Of course, honey, I thought that was a given,” says Tiadrin, because—well, she really did think it was. She was going to let Sarai know when she called so she and Harrow wouldn’t worry, and she certainly wasn’t about to let the poor boy take a train back to Katolis at three in the morning. “I’ll call you back once I’ve spoken to Sarai. Don’t stress, okay? We’re on our way.”

“Thanks Mum and Dad,” chuckles Rayla, and Callum (presumably) takes the phone from her and adds—

“Yeah, thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Docherty. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Tiadrin snorts. Even in his disgrace, he’s such a polite kid. Sarai has every reason to be proud. “It’s not a problem, Callum. We’ll see you soon.”     

“There was a WHAT?”  

Tiadrin winces and pulls the phone from her ear. In hindsight, she should have known better, and she understands now why Rayla had opened with don’t panic —and Sarai, very pointedly, is panicking. “Callum’s okay,” she clarifies. “They’re all okay, nobody got hurt. I’ve already spoken to him and there’s nothing to worry about.”

Sarai continues to worry. “I’m booking the next flight home,” she says. “It won’t be for hours yet, but at least I can back and make sure Callum’s okay, and—” 

“Sarai. Take a minute.”

Sarai does. She sucks in a long, steadying breath and Tiadrin counts the seconds as she exhales before she tries again.

“Callum’s fine,” she tells her firmly. “Rayla said they’re shutting the school down for a couple of weeks so Callum’s just going to come home with us where he’s welcome to stay until you get back.”

“Oh, Tia, I couldn’t ask—”

“You’re not asking,” says Tiadrin. “We’d love to have him.”

“I can still come home,” insists Sarai. “If he can stay with you until I get there, that’d be wonderful but—honestly, Tia, what kind of mother would I be if I stayed away at a time like this?”

Tiadrin clicks her tongue sternly. “One who raised her son right and trusts him to be okay.” Then, a little more gently, she adds, “Listen. I get it. It’s hard to be so far away when something like this has happened. It must be so frustrating to not be able to get back. But I promise everything will be fine if you stay and finish your holiday. He’s a good kid, Sarai. It’s not an imposition, and we wouldn’t have offered if we didn’t want to. You would do the same for Rayla in a heartbeat and you know it.”

Sarai pauses. Tiadrin waits for another rebuttal and is only mildly surprised when she concedes at last. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“ Yes,” says Tiadrin, biting back her chuckle. “If you’re really having trouble, think about it like this. You know what those two are like. Are you really going to deprive Callum of the awkward teenage experience of staying over at his crush’s house?”

Sarai barks out a laugh at that. “I suppose he can’t miss out on that. It’s a rite of passage.”

Tiadrin snorts too. “I’ll have him call you as soon as we get to the school.”

“That would be wonderful,” breathes Sarai. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Tiadrin says. She means it.

v.

The years pass.

There’s drama and romance and fights and heartbreaks; graduations and parties and Thanksgivings and Christmases; concerts and galleries and charity balls—Sarai and Tiadrin are there for all of it, and they watch their children grow closer and closer until one day, Rayla comes home with a ring.

The reaction is huge. Lain and Ethari throw themselves over Callum, pleased that he’ll be officially part of the family at last. Runaan pretends to be moodier than he is, but even Callum can see the pride shining in his smile. Tiadrin hugs her daughter and her soon-to-be son-in-law with tears in her eyes, and, when the champagne is poured and everyone is chatting loudly over dinner, Tiadrin sneaks out onto the verandah and calls Sarai.

She answers with a question:

“Did he do it?”

Tiadrin laughs. “He did it!” she cries, still giddy. “Oh, Sarai, it’s been so long coming. I’m so glad it’s finally happening.”

“He asked me for advice on the ring, if you can believe that,” Sarai laughs. “He had Ethari help him make it in the end. Did he tell you?”

“I don’t think he wanted to spoil the surprise,” chuckles Tiadrin. “It’s a beautiful ring. Callum went to so much trouble to make sure it was just right. You raised such a gentleman.”

“He loves her a lot,” says Sarai. “And I can’t blame him for it. Rayla’s the perfect match for him and I want to thank you for raising the love of his life.”

Tiadrin lets out a snort and takes a long sip from her champagne. “Well, we won’t get anywhere if we just sit here congratulating each other all night. I can’t believe we’re going to be in-laws!”

“I can’t wait,” says Sarai happily. “Harrow and I will be driving over your way tomorrow. Ezran will be a couple of days yet—he’s seeing a friend in Duren and will have to fly in. There’s a lot of us—are you absolutely sure you want to put us up?”

“Of course,” says Tiadrin firmly, like she won’t have them even consider looking at alternative accommodation. “There’s always room for family here—and that’ll be official in a few months, so I won’t have you arguing about it.” 

Sarai chuckles fondly. “It’s been a time, hasn’t it? That school tour feels like it was only yesterday.”

“We should have seen it coming then.”

“Didn’t we?” teases Sarai. “We both knew they were flirting then.”

“That’s a little different from the endgame, Sarai,” says Tiadrin drily, but she chuckles and breathes in the cool night air. “I’m glad they chose to hang out that day. It would have been a different time, I think, if we didn’t have each other to get us through all of this.”

“Indeed,” says Sarai. “Have you still got champagne?”

Tiadrin blinks. “Yes?”

“Give me one moment.” There’s a pause on the line, and the sound of a wine glass clinking on a kitchen bench. Tiadrin snorts to herself as she realizes Sarai’s pouring herself a glass too. “Feel like I’m missing out on all the toasts,” she explains playfully. 

“There’ll be more tomorrow,” chuckles Tiadrin, “and when Ezran arrives, I’m sure of it.”  

“Let’s have one for us, then.” Sarai clears her throat and, presumably, raises her glass. “To friendship.”

Tiadrin laughs and raises her own. “To motherhood.”

Bonus

Callum and Rayla have a little girl with Callum’s hair and Rayla’s eyes. She’s a beautiful, tiny thing—a wonderful mix of both of them, and after the stress of labour, and the high of meeting her has passed, the night comes and Rory refuses to settle.

It’s hard. Harder than Rayla ever thought it would be, and she holds her little bundle close and whispers comforts to her while trying to hold her tears back herself. 

They’re staying at Mom’s. It’s only been a few days since they got back from the hospital, and Mum’s staying here too, because she’d wanted to be there to hold Rayla’s hand through labour. She’s in the spare room down the hall, but Rory’s wails are high-pitched and distressed, and Callum’s exhausted from taking her during the day. He’s napping now, while he can, and Rayla paces the living room hoping Rory won’t wake anyone else in the house. 

She does—and Mum appears in the living room doorway stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Sorry,” mutters Rayla, sniffling a little. “She won’t settle and she doesn’t want any more milk.”

“Don’t apologise, honey,” says Mum. “It happens. Would you like a break?”

Rayla hesitates. There’s a lump in her throat because she’s exhausted too, and she just wants to sleep, but she doesn’t want to impose, and she wants to be a good mum too, and the idea of handing her daughter over the minute she can’t anymore is— 

“All mums need breaks, darling,” says Mum gently. “It’s okay.”

The light in the kitchen switches on, and Rayla glances up to see Mom up too, filling the kettle by the sink. “I heard we were having a slumber party,” she says, tired but cheerful, all the same.

“Sorry,” says Rayla again. Her voice breaks this time. “I didn’t mean to wake either of you.”

“Hush,” says Mom, pulling three mugs down from the cupboard. “We’re mothers. We get it.”

Mum chuckles. “We’re here for you, honey.”

And it’s too much now, because Mum is here, and Mom is making tea, and Rayla’s just so tired but Rory needs her too. She sobs a little, head bowed against Rory’s, tears splashing onto her tiny nose, and Mum says nothing—she only pulls Rayla into her arms and presses a kiss into her hair, a promise that this, too, shall pass.

“I just want to be a good mum,” sniffles Rayla. “And it’s so hard and—”

“It’s all right, honey,” whispers Mum. “We know it’s hard. Really. We do.”

“And honestly, Rayla?” says Mom, bringing their mugs over and setting them on the coffee table. “This is the hardest part. Everyone talks about labour being the worst, but this newborn phase?” She chuckles understandingly. “We’re here with you, okay? Every step. We’re here.”

“You’ll get through this, honey,” adds Mum kindly. “You’re doing great .”

fin