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“
Mommy
.
Mommy.
Mom
.”
The voice was small but insistent, a rapid-fire whisper that pressed into Chloe’s half-conscious dreams until it finally peeled her out of sleep. A weight bounced beside her on the bed, sending a jolt up through the mattress.
She groaned, arm flopping over her eyes. “Cass, honey, it’s not even sunrise.”
“But Mama’s gonna be so happy to see us today,” Cassian whispered like it was a sacred secret. His breath smelled faintly of last night’s toothpaste and whatever candy he’d snuck before bed. “I miss her.”
That made Chloe open her eyes.
Cassian was kneeling beside her, dressed in yesterday’s wrinkled pajama set - little card suits and cartoon flamingos on a dark blue background. His curls stuck up at wild angles, flattened in places where he’d slept too hard, and his big brown eyes sparkled with something bright and aching. Hope. Anticipation. Love.
She lifted herself up on one elbow and brushed a curl off his forehead. “I know, bub,” she murmured. “I miss her too.”
He pressed his face against her shoulder, wrapping his little arms around her middle like he was trying to squeeze the sadness right out of both of them. Chloe curled her fingers around his back and let the moment hold.
Then, muffled into her sleeve her boy asked, “Can we have blueberry waffles?”
Chloe blinked. “Blueberry waffles?”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling back just enough to grin at her. “The way Mama likes to make them for all of us. With the crispy edges.”
Chloe stretched, joints cracking, then slowly swung her legs out of bed. “Only if you help me make them.”
Cassian gasped like she’d just offered him a trip to the moon.
“Deal!”
Down in the castle’s kitchen, morning light spilled across the checkered floor in soft gold patches. The enchanted chandeliers above gave off a warm flickering glow that adjusted automatically to the time of day. Designed by Maddox as a gift for Red, who hated harsh lights before noon.
Cassian climbed up onto his step stool by the counter and rolled up his sleeves like a professional. Chloe handed him the eggs with a soft, “Crack them gently.”
“Gentle like a bunny,” he recited, already banging one against the side of the bowl with too much enthusiasm. “Oops.”
Shell fell in, but Chloe fished it out before he could notice.
They moved in tandem, Chloe whisking the dry ingredients while Cassian measured out blueberries, eating more than he saved. The smell of vanilla and citrus zest filled the room as she poured batter onto the heated waffle iron and it hissed softly, steam curling into the air.
Reign shuffled in as the third waffle was stacking on the plate, rubbing sleep from her eyes, one of Red’s old shirts drowning her frame. She moved like someone walking through a dream.
“Morning, love,” Chloe whispers to her, plating two waffles and passing it over. “Eat up, then go get dressed. I want to head out by noon, okay?”
Reign grumbled something into her fork, then sat down and started eating. Cassian had already devoured his first waffle and was working on the second, syrup dribbling down his chin.
After breakfast, Chloe led Cassian back up to his room to help him pick out an outfit. His dresser was a mess with drawers hanging half-open, socks mismatched, and tiny undershirts crumpled into little hills. Chloe sat cross-legged on the carpet and started pulling out shirts.
“How about this one?” she asked, holding up a forest green tee with a stitched white rabbit on the front.
Cassian made a face, “No.”
“Alright,” she said, digging deeper into the drawers. “What about this one? It’s soft.”
He crossed his arms. “Too soft.”
“Okay, this one has your favorite patch on it.” She dangled a gray shirt with a flaming heart emblem stitched near the hem.
“Nope.”
Chloe dropped her hands with a sigh. “Cassian, I’ve given you like ten options. What
do
you want to wear?”
He pointed towards the corner of the drawer, eyes suddenly lighting up. “That one!”
She turned and spotted it. A black cotton shirt with red stripes running along the sleeves and shoulders. It had been a gift from Red, a mini version of her own favorite shirt, and one Cassian only ever wore on very special days.
Chloe stared at it for a beat too long.
“You want to wear Mama’s shirt?” she asked softly.
Cassian nodded, bouncing on his toes. “So we match.”
Her chest gave a quiet, painful tug.
She helped him slide it over his head, adjusting the fit across his narrow shoulders, tugging the hem straight.
“There,” she said, smoothing it gently. “You look just like her.”
Cassian beamed.
“She’s gonna love it.”
Chloe managed a smile, brushing a thumb across his cheek again before sending him off to find his socks.
She found Reign in her room, door half-closed and the morning sun spilling in through a window framed with climbing ivy. Chloe lingered in the doorway for a moment, unnoticed.
Reign was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her little vanity, shoulders hunched forward, jaw set in concentration. Her hands fumbled through thick curls, trying to part them down the middle. A pile of discarded hair ties lay beside her like shed skins. Every few seconds, a bobby pin clattered to the floor.
Her expression was determined - and just on the edge of frustration.
She’d gotten on side twisted into a loose bun, with the other side refusing to cooperate. Every time she got it twisted and tied off, it slid loose or bulged out lopsided. Her brow furrowed deeper with each attempt.
“She always makes it look so easy,” Reign mumbled under her breath.
“She does,” Chloe said softly, finally stepping into the room.
Reign startled, glancing up in the mirror.
“I’m fine.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, smiling gently. “Didn’t say you weren’t.”
Her daughter huffed and pulled a tie from her half-done bun. “It’s dumb anyway. I just thought… I don’t know.”
Chloe knelt behind her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulders. “You wanted to wear your hair like hers.”
Reign nodded slowly, eyes fixed on her reflection.
“She always does it in, like, five seconds,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “And when she does mine, they’d come out perfect. Like little hearts.”
“I know,” Chloe murmured. Her fingers moved instinctively, brushing through her daughter’s hair. “She likes to say your curls are made of starlight and attitude.”
Reign gave a short, quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “I miss her.”
“I know,” Chloe said gently, her hands never stopping.
“I do too.”
Reign leaned back just a little, letting Chloe take over completely. She sat still and quiet as Chloe worked, combing through each section with care, parting her curls evenly, then twisting them up into two high buns.
“I’m so proud of you, you know,” Chloe said softly as she wrapped a tie around the second bun. “You’ve grown so much this year. I’m obsessed with your new art pieces. And I saw those new sword moves yesterday, by the way. The double spin you did? You nailed it.”
“I think about you when I train,” Reign admitted. “I want to be strong like you, and brave too. But when I paint, I think about her. And I get nervous when expressing my feelings in my work. I can’t tell if she truly sees me in my pieces.”
Chloe swallowed the knot in her throat and carefully slid the last pin into place.
“She sees you, starlight. Every single day.”
There was a long pause before Reign asked, very softly, “Do you think she still thinks I’m cool?”
Chloe chuckled gently and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Reign, she thinks you are the coolest person in all of Wonderland. The whole world even. I can recall countless different stories of her bragging about you to every single person she saw.”
Reign smiled, for real this time. She turned her head to examine her reflection. The space buns were slightly lopsided. They weren’t perfect, but close. Real; like Red’s always are.
“There,” Chloe said. “Perfect.”
Reign touched one of the buns lightly, a proud little grin tugging at her lips.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Chloe ran her hand down Reign’s back and stood. “Now go help your brother find his shoes. I’ll grab the rest of our things.”
In the kitchen, the scent of warm sugar and fruit still lingered in the air. Chloe packed everything carefully into a wicker picnic basket: the leftover blueberry waffles wrapped in foil, a container of strawberries and sugared lemon slices, a pair of thermoses filled with sweet tea, and a time of shortbread cookies shaped like roses and hearts.
The blanket - soft, crimson, and a little worn at the edges - sat on the countertop, folded and waiting.
She took a breath. Then another. She picked up the basket and draped the blanket over her arm.
Outside the castle doors, Reign leaned against the car, flipping through one of her many sketchbooks. Cassian was racing in wild circles through the grass, arms flung out like wings, making explosion noises.
Chloe stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching them, her children - the living pieces of a love story still echoing through their lives.
Then she stepped into the light, the door closing behind her.
The car ride started with excitement.
Cassian sat in the back seat, legs swinging as he rattled off his plans. “I’m gonna show Mama my card trick first. No- first I’m gonna tell her about the lava boss! She’s going to be so proud I beat it without any hints.” He grinned, chest puffed with pride.
“I even saved a video to show her!”
Reign was more quiet, her sketchbook open on her lap, a pencil dancing across the page. “I’m drawing her a new version of the rose blade,” she said. “The one from the dream I had. You know, the one where her crown turned into fire and she saved the dreamscape from the Wyrm Queen?”
“She’d say it was ‘badass,’” Cassian piped in, proud of his use of the swear word even if it earned him a side glance from Chloe in the rearview mirror.
Chloe didn’t say much. She smiled when she could. Nodded at the right moments. Her hands stayed tight on the steering wheel, knuckles pale. Every word the kids spoke felt like a spark and a splinter all at once.
The road wound out of the city, past the tall candy red trees and the velvet-draped hills of Wonderland’s wilder lands. The further they drove, the quieter it became. Like the world itself knew to hush.
The meadow appeared just over a ridge, wild and soft, golden in the late afternoon light. The grass waved in the breeze like a sea, and flowers dotted the earth in bursts of white, pink, and deep crimson.
The car hadn’t even fully stopped before Cassian flung his door open.
“Mama!” he shouted, bolting into the field, “Mama, we’re here!”
Reign followed, a little slower, her artwork clutched tight against her chest.
Chloe didn’t move. Not yet.
She sat in the driver's seat, breathing carefully. The engine ticked as it cooled. She started out through the windshield at the two small figures running toward a space she’d memorized down to every blade of grass.
It still hit her like the first time, every time.
Cassian dropped to his knees in front of his other mother, wrapping his little arms around her in a hug . Reign crouched beside him, setting her sketchbook down gently and copying his movements.
Chloe pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. Just for a second.
Then: “Mom!”
She looked up. Cassian was waving, beaming, both arms stretched wide. “Come on! We’re starting without you!”
Chloe stepped out into the wind and gathered the picnic basket and blanket from the passenger seat. Her legs moved on their own. Her heart, meanwhile, felt like it had been locked in her throat.
She reached them slowly.
And there it was.
The headstone.
"Queen Red of Hearts
Beloved Wife, Mother, Daughter, and Sister
Eternal Flame of Wonderland"
It was simple. Honest. Red had hated grandiose things unless she’d designed them herself. The engraving had been Chloe’s idea. Words she’d scribbled in a notebook on a night she couldn’t sleep, because Red wasn’t in bed with her.
Cassian ran up to her and grabbed the blanket from under her arm. “I’ll set it up! Mama always preferred the sunny spots.”
He darted off. Reign started near the grave, gently rearranging the flowers from last time. Most were wilted now, their petals clinging to color in spite of it.
Chloe knelt and helped Reign freshen the space. She didn’t speak. Her voice had gone somewhere deep. Somewhere unreachable.
They laid the blanket down a few feet from the headstone and set out the food. The kids ate between bursts of excited stories, crumbs flying, syrup sticking to fingers.
Cassian showed off his card trick, which didn’t quite land like he wanted, but Red would’ve clapped anyway. “It’s better when I do it with her,” he said sheepishly.
“You’re getting better every time,” Chloe assured him.
He looked over at the stone. “You think Mama’s watching?”
“I do,” Chloe said. Her voice cracked, just slightly. “I think she’s listening to everything.”
Reign finished her sketch and gently set it against the headstone, weighted with a pebble.
“She would’ve loved that,” Chloe said, brushing Reign’s curls back from her forehead.
Reign looked up, eyes soft. “You think she’s proud of us?”
Chloe couldn’t answer right away. She swallowed hard, blinking fast. “Every second of every day.”
The kids didn’t notice her silence. They chattered on, telling Red about school and new hobbies, about dreams and things they thought she’d laugh at. Chloe stayed quiet, eating a little, smiling when she could, eyes always fixed on the space between them and the stone.
She didn’t cry. Not while they were watching.
Eventually, the sun began to dip low, and Cassian yawned mid-sentence.
“Time to pack up,” Chloe said gently. “Say goodnight.”
Cassian leaned forward and kissed the stone. “Bye, Mama. I love you more than space.”
Reign pressed a flower against the carved name. “I’ll bring the finished drawing next time.”
They walked back to the car, hand in hand. Chloe stayed behind.
She stood in the fading light, arms wrapped tight around herself as she faced the headstone alone.
The breeze had cooled, brushing at the edges of the red picnic blanket, tugging gently at the flowers Reign had placed. The sky was starting to shift — streaks of orange and lavender bleeding into the blue. Chloe closed her eyes and breathed it all in like she could draw strength from the wind, like the air still carried traces of Red.
And then she spoke, low and cracked and close to breaking.
“I don’t know how to do this without you,” she whispered.
Her voice was barely audible, barely strong enough to hold the weight of the truth.
“You were the fire in everything. You made this whole world loud and beautiful and impossible in the best way. And now it’s like everything’s just… quieter. Even when the kids are laughing, even when the castle’s full, it’s too quiet without you.”
She knelt, the grass damp against her knees, and placed a hand against the stone.
“Pink misses you,” she said, her voice trembling. “She’s trying so hard to be brave for the kids, and for me, but I see it in her eyes. Every time she hears your name. She can barely walk past your art studio without crying.”
Chloe laughed bitterly under her breath. “And Bridget… she still keeps your portrait mounted above the hearth like it’s holy. She polishes its frame every week. Still wears your signet ring on a chain like it’s the only thing keeping her standing.”
Her hand curled against the stone, fingertips brushing the engraved letters as if they might change.
“Chad tells the kids stories about you whenever he visits,” she went on, quieter now. “Stupid ones. Funny ones. So many. He says he doesn’t want them to forget what a menace you were when we were teenagers. He does the voices. He always did the best impression of you yelling.”
Her mouth quirked up for a second, then faltered.
“And my parents…” she blinked hard. “They still set a place for you at the table. Every time we visit. Quietly, without saying a word. The kids know not to ask, and I never have the heart to stop them.”
Chloe reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, pressed flower — a red peony, dried and flattened. She laid it gently at the base of the stone.
“You’re still everywhere,” she said. “Everywhere but here.”
The words hit her like a wave, and she folded forward, shoulders shaking. No sobs. No sound. Just grief so heavy it bent her in half.
When she found her voice again, it was little more than a whisper.
“I miss you. I miss you so much, it physically hurts. I wake up every morning thinking maybe today will be the day I stop expecting to see you next to me. But I still roll over. I still reach.”
She wiped her face on her sleeve and looked up at the stone, her face raw, her eyes shining.
“You should be here. You should be here watching Reign become you and Cassian make us all laugh until we cry. You should be yelling in the kitchen and kissing me in the hallway and stealing my socks because yours mysteriously vanished again.”
She laughed softly, brokenly.
“I keep hearing your voice. I hear it when Reign argues with me, and when Cassian says something so clever I know he got it from you. I hear it when I’m alone, too. Telling me to keep going.”
Chloe rose slowly, one hand pressed to her chest like she was trying to hold something in.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Still. Always. Until my very last breath.”
She leaned forward and kissed the top of the stone, her lips trembling against the cold.
Then she turned and walked back to the car, where her children waited with soft eyes and sleepy limbs. She climbed in, shut the door behind her, and started the engine.
The drive home was silent.
And the hole in her chest, the one Red left behind, felt wider than ever.
The castle was quiet when they got home, lit only by the soft golden glow of enchanted sconces that dimmed with the hour. The kids dragged their feet more than usual, the weight of the visit settling into their little bodies like sand in the seams of their hearts.
Chloe moved through the routine with practiced care. Brushing teeth, picking out pajamas, smoothing down cowlicks with a kiss to the forehead. The ache in her chest pulsed with every step, but she didn’t let it show. Not yet.
Cassian was the first to be tucked in.
He was curled on his side, arms wrapped around his stuffed fox, the one Red had given him after his first bad dream. Chloe sat on the edge of the bed and tucked the blanket up to his chin.
“Mama would’ve loved the card trick,” she said softly, brushing his curls back. “She probably would’ve begged you to teach it to her.”
Cassian didn’t smile. His lip wobbled.
“She should’ve been there.”
Chloe’s chest cracked open.
“I know, baby,” she said gently.
He turned toward her, big brown eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I miss her so bad it makes my stomach feel funny. Like something’s wrong in there.”
Chloe leaned down and kissed his forehead, resting there a moment longer than usual.
“If she could be here, Cass, she would. You know that, right?”
He sniffled, nodding into her shoulder.
“She loved you more than anything in the world,” Chloe whispered. “She still does. She’s always with you, even if you can’t see her.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Cassian reached up, touched his heart with a little hand. “In here?”
Chloe pressed her hand over his. “Exactly. Always in there.”
Cassian nodded again, quieter now. His eyes fluttered closed, his grip on the stuffed fox loosening just slightly.
“Goodnight, my love,” Chloe murmured. “Sweet dreams.”
She left the door cracked as she stepped into the hall. Just enough to let the light in.
Reign’s room was dark. Still.
Chloe knocked softly on the door before opening it just a crack. The lights were off, but she could hear the muffled hiccups under the covers.
“Reign?” she said quietly, stepping inside.
No answer.
Chloe crossed the room, each step slow and deliberate, and sat gently on the edge of the bed. Her daughter was cocooned in blankets, tucked into herself like she was trying to disappear.
She laid a hand on top of the blanket.
“I’m here.”
That broke something.
The blanket flung back with a suddenness that made Chloe flinch, and Reign sat up with a cry caught in her throat. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes red and wet, her nose running with a raw, unfiltered look of grief that a child should be too young to carry.
“It’s not fair!” she sobbed, fists curling into the blanket in her lap.
Chloe’s throat tightened, but she didn’t speak. She let her daughter unravel.
“She’s gone!” Reign shouted. “She was supposed to be here for everything! For my first real sword fight, and when I win my first art competition, and when I fall in love. She was supposed to be here!”
Chloe reached for her, but Reign pulled away, shaking her head.
“She wanted to be here!” she continued, her voice rising with each word. “She wanted to see us grow up! She wanted to stay! So why did they take her? Why did the world take her from us?”
“I don’t know,” Chloe said softly, her heart shattering again and again.
“I hate waking up and knowing she’s not here! I hate that I can’t ask her stupid stuff like if I’m doing my bun right or if my art is good or what it means when your chest hurts just from missing someone so much you can’t breathe!”
She sobbed again and buried her face in her knees. “I miss her so much it makes me feel like I’m going to explode.”
Chloe didn’t wait this time. She pulled Reign into her arms and held her, strong and steady, even as her own tears started to fall.
“I know, baby,” she whispered. “I know you do.”
Reign clung to her like a lifeline, her hands fisted into Chloe’s shirt.
“It’s not fair,” she repeated, softer now. “It’s not fair.”
Chloe nodded, pressing a kiss into her curls. “No. It’s not.”
They sat there like that for a long time. No clock ticking, no time passing — just the two of them in the dark, riding out the storm of grief together.
And then, in a quiet, trembling voice, Reign whispered:
“What if they take you from us too?”
Chloe inhaled sharply, her heart freezing in her chest for a moment before she gently cupped Reign’s face and looked into her eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, “that could never happen. Not like that. I promise.”
“But Mama promised too…”
Chloe pressed her forehead to Reign’s. “She didn’t leave by choice, baby. You know that. She fought so hard to stay. But I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m right here. And I’m going to stay here. For you. For Cassian. For our family.”
Reign’s bottom lip trembled.
Chloe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, “And even though Mama’s gone physically, she’s never truly left us.”
She wrapped her arms tighter around her daughter and leaned back into the bed, bringing her close.
“She’s in the sunsets outside the castle walls,” Chloe said softly, her voice low and even. “You know the ones that turn the sky red and gold, like fire and honey? That’s her.”
Reign nodded faintly, her head resting on Chloe’s chest.
“She’s in the shells we collect on the beach. The ones we used to throw into the sea and pretend were messages just for her. She’s in your laugh. She’s in the art you make when you miss her. And she’s in every beat of your heart.”
Reign blinked slowly, her breathing starting to even out.
“She’s always with us,” Chloe murmured. “Even when it hurts. Especially then.”
Reign tucked herself closer, her fingers curling into Chloe’s sleeve.
“Can you stay with me tonight?” she whispered.
Chloe didn’t hesitate. “Always.”
She kissed the top of her daughter’s head and pulled the blanket up over them both, wrapping her arms securely around the little body she loved more than anything in the world.
She didn’t return to her own bed that night. She didn’t want to.
She stayed right there, curled around her baby girl, holding her through the sadness, through the dark. Through the pain.
And as the night passed slowly by, Chloe listened to Reign’s breathing, soft and steady now, and closed her eyes.
The bed wasn’t so lonely tonight.