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Joy has never let herself dwell on how little she knows her son.
She’s tried not to overthink it over the years, aware she’s luckier than many other parents with adult children. She and Tim talk every other Sunday, chat about the weather and the news, and maybe she’ll touch on her plans for that evening if there’s anything exciting going on. She’s just grateful to still have some level of connection with him after all this time.
But it’d be impossible not to notice the way Tim has worked to keep her at arms’ length, easily breezing past details when she asks about his job or his friends, or anything even slightly beyond the surface. She’s gotten used to reminding herself he’s a busy man—a police sergeant, a Watch Commander now, in fact—and it’s a blanket she carefully lays atop her lingering guilt. She’s all too aware of the real reasons he keeps his distance; they’re the same reasons she doesn’t feel like she has the right to dig any deeper into his life.
After the childhood he endured, the one she was responsible for giving him, Tim’s life is finally his, and if he chooses not to let her in because of the choices she made, that’s her burden to carry, no matter how much it hurts.
She’s always wondered if he knows he’s doing it, or if it’s entirely unconscious, and she’s unsure which truth would be worse.
Nevertheless, it’s hard not to feel that lack of connection when she finds herself on his doorstep after too much time has passed. For starters, it’s a new house from the last time she’d stayed over, back when he was still with Isabel—yet another thing he glossed over with painful ease, mentioning the end of his decade-long relationship like he was telling her what he’d had for lunch.
All it takes is a couple of quick knocks, and suddenly Joy is holding her son for the first time in years. Her Timmy. It feels so natural, and for a moment it’s like no time has passed at all since they were last face-to-face.
But she’s barely set foot in the door before she’s confronted with just how much she’s missed in her son’s life, unknown puzzle pieces taking the form of a woman radiating kindness and light.
Amidst her surprise, Joy makes a mess of the whole interaction—having not realised Tim was seeing anyone, she figures this woman must be his co-worker, but realises she’s wrong at the surprised look on the woman’s face. Making the assumption that they must have only been together a short while then, she excuses herself to get her bags, giving them space to talk for a moment. The last thing she wants is to make things awkward between them with her unexpected presence.
After making sure she’s settled, Tim is apologetic about having to leave for work, but Joy waves him off, assuring him she’ll be just fine. She’s not quite certain why Genny dropped her off at 8 a.m., but part of her is quietly glad it gives her time to settle into the space.
A beautiful dog trots over to greet her as Tim and his girlfriend are getting ready to leave and, finally, Joy has something that doesn’t make her feel like a stranger barging in on her son’s life—Kojo. She’s seen many, many pictures over the years, and many a bark has sounded through the speakers on their phone calls.
She waves goodbye through the window as they climb into Tim’s car and head to work, maternal muscle memory slotting back into place like he’s still a highschooler driving to football practice.
In the quiet, she can’t help but take the opportunity to look around. The house is charming and warm, and it feels lived-in. When she’d visited his old house all those years ago, Joy couldn’t help but notice how stark the place felt, almost like it had been staged. It was lovely, but cold and hollow in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
This house, on the other hand, is overflowing with life.
There are elements of Tim she recognises instantly, fragments that echo his childhood bedroom, like baseball memorabilia and Star Wars figurines and games consoles under the TV. It warms her heart, particularly because she’s painfully aware he had to grow up far too fast.
There are also pieces of his adult life she recognises—an American flag carefully folded from his army days, an LAPD certificate of commendation partially tucked behind it. She wishes Tim was prouder of his achievements, with enough pride to put them on full display in his home rather than hiding them at the back of a shelf.
Joy also sees a few things that don’t quite fit her understanding of Tim. There’s an extensive tea collection on one of the kitchen shelves, accompanied by an ornate set of mugs. Her son had always pulled a face whenever she’d tried to offer him tea, opting for coffee instead. There’s also fake bacon in the fridge—Tim couldn’t stand fake meats as a child.
The unfamiliar fragments make her wonder just how outdated her knowledge of her son is, and the thought pains her a little. She knows that people change, but as a mother, she feels like these are the little things she should know about her son, no matter how old he gets.
And then her eyes catch on the photos. So many photos, dotted across every surface. Selfies taken on the job. Group photos of him and his friends on nights out; she recognises Angela from when they’d met a while back. There are a couple of Tim with Genny, and with his nephews.
There are a lot of him and Lucy. A lot.
Their relationship must be longer-term than she’d realised, which only makes her feel worse about earlier. They look a lot younger in some of these, the photos spanning years and occasions, from weddings, to parties, to work, to hikes. There are even a couple that were taken in this house, the familiar decor forming a cosy backdrop. Smiles crinkle their eyes in every photo as they lean into each other.
The two of them look happy.
Joy is delighted that Tim has found someone that brings him happiness, even if a selfish part of her wishes she’d been able to be part of some of that. It hadn’t quite dawned on her just how much of his life she’d missed until seeing it laid out in front of her in snapshots and tangible evidence.
Painfully aware that she can’t change the past, Joy pulls herself away from that line of thinking. She’s here right now, and that’s what matters. Tim hasn’t shut her out completely, and she still gets to be a mom to her son.
The house is in a good state, everything in its place—unsurprising, since Tim was always somewhat of a neat freak as a child—but she does spot the laundry basket in the bathroom. It’s not overflowing, but it is full, so Joy figures she’ll help out while she’s here, assuming her role as his mother.
Obviously, she doesn’t intend to snoop as she loads the washer, but it’d be hard to miss the women’s dress in there. Joy had already figured Lucy spent the night, but it’s sweet knowing that Tim does her laundry for her before she heads home.
At least, that’s where Joy’s logic leads her to start with. As she continues loading the washer, though, she also comes across multiple sets of women’s pyjamas, a top, two tops, three tops, and jeans that are far too small for Tim’s towering frame.
Maybe Lucy spent more than one night, then. Two or three. It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility.
But when she finishes her task and takes another walk around the house, dusting things that don’t need dusting just to feel like she’s being helpful, Joy finds herself seeing it in a slightly different light, the pieces slowly falling into place.
The ornate mugs. The colourful artwork on the wall. Throw pillows in shades of yellow and blue. Two coasters with clear spots on the coffee table.
It almost seems like Lucy lives here.
Part of her hesitates to reach that conclusion, because it means something she doesn’t want to admit. She knew she was missing pieces of her son’s life, but… this is a big piece.
If they were that serious, Tim would’ve mentioned Lucy before, right?
Ignoring the voice in her head, the one telling her no, he wouldn’t, she calls him at work to put her mind at ease.
It has the opposite effect.
“I was tidying up around the house, doing some laundry,” she bumbles, “and I couldn’t help but notice—the girl that you’re seeing, Linda—” Shit, shit, shit. She always ends up saying the wrong name at the worst moments. This definitely isn’t helping the case she wants to make.
“Lucy.” Tim sounds resigned, and Joy doesn’t blame him one bit.
“Lucy,” she corrects. “Does she live here?”
For a second, Joy swears he hesitates, reluctant to answer. Does her son really see her as that much of a stranger?
“Yeah, she does.”
Right. “So, this is serious.”
“Very.” The response is immediate, like he’s never been more certain of anything.
So why is this the first she’s hearing about it?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She tries to disguise some of the heartbreak in her voice, because she knows damn well that this isn’t all on Tim—it’s on her, too, on how much burden she let him carry as a child.
If she’d helped carry some of that weight back then, he’d probably feel more comfortable about letting her carry some of it now, instead of being reluctant to let her carry anything at all, good or bad.
He makes some vague excuse about work that Joy knows is a lie to avoid answering, and hangs up.
Joy’s heart cracks, and she wonders just how much else she doesn’t know about her son.
Looking around, her surroundings suddenly become this overwhelming trove of new information, every nook and cranny unfamiliar. An encyclopaedia of a man she’s supposed to know like the back of her hand.
Even if she’s expecting Tim when she hears the keys in the door that night, Joy is glad that Lucy’s the first one home. It gives her the chance to apologise for the mess she made of this morning.
As soon as she tries, though, she’s struck by the way Lucy effortlessly shifts to seeing the situation from Joy’s perspective, kindness shining in her eyes. Even if Joy’s guilt is immovable by this point, rooted in years of mulling over the past, Lucy does her best to soothe it anyway, with a gentle voice and empathetic words. Empathy that Joy doesn’t believe she deserves, as she overexplains what she’s refused to confront in far too few words.
And even when she goes on to be a little too honest, explaining how badly she wants to know her son, Lucy doesn’t criticise her, doesn’t so much as judge her. Instead, she makes room for it, sparking the first real hope of rebuilding her and Tim’s relationship that Joy has felt in a long time. In fact, Lucy excuses herself the moment Tim gets home, like she understands just how much time Joy is desperate to earn back.
Even in the act of excusing herself, Lucy handles Tim with such gentleness and care Joy knows he never got from his childhood. She cups his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and Tim doesn’t run from the touch. In fact, he reaches back for it—for her—like it’s instinct. It’s enough to bring tears to Joy’s eyes.
Because of Lucy, Joy gets the first real conversation she’s shared with her son since he was a child, and he opens up to her in a way he never has. Joy knows without a doubt that Lucy’s influence has weaved its way in, in the best way.
Just from those small moments, it’s already clear that Lucy is an incredible woman. And even though she may not know her all that well, Joy knows that she wants to. As much as she wants to know her son, she wants to know the woman who’s saved him.
To her delight, it seems Lucy feels the same way, going out of her way to connect with her in the brief time she stays with them. They effortlessly make space in their hectic routine, inviting Joy for their homemade breakfasts and dinners, the third placemat at the table feeling like it belongs there before long.
Over the few days, it becomes more than clear that Lucy brings out the best in Tim. He smiles so much around her, a sight Joy never got to cherish when he was young, exuding a lightness she’s rarely seen in an honest way.
Even after a long, exhausting day at work, Tim is humming in the kitchen as he cooks dinner for the three of them—one of Lucy’s favourite dishes, apparently, because he’d insisted—and Joy is sat at the dining table as Lucy sings her son’s culinary praises. This, of course, is much to Tim’s light-hearted chagrin—apparently his aversion to praise hasn’t shifted one bit.
This home is clearly his safe space, a place where he can let his guard down no matter what he’s endured in the world beyond its walls. The love it houses is almost tangible in the air, found in every piece of furniture and gentle touch and word spoken.
Even when it comes time for Joy to leave, heading back to Genny’s for one more day with her daughter and grandkids before her flight home, Lucy invites all of them to stay for lunch.
Right away, it’s obvious how at-home the boys feel here, greeting Lucy with bright smiles and Joy with hugs before they dart for Kojo, who jumps up to greet them with equal enthusiasm.
“Hi to you, too,” Tim jokes, setting down a dishcloth as he steps out of the kitchen.
“Hi, Uncle Tim!” The boys’ grins are wide when they glance up, and Tyler gets right back to giving the dog much-appreciated belly rubs.
Austin, however, stays looking at his uncle, giving him a look with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t need to say a single word before Tim is pointing in the direction of the backyard.
“Door’s unlocked,” he smiles. “You’ve got twenty ‘til lunch.”
The boys let out cheerful exclamations, calling out their thanks as they usher Kojo into the garden, grabbing some of his toys from the basket as they go.
“It’s the only time they’re ever interested in being outside these days,” Genny tuts as she walks in just in time to watch her sons disappear through the back door.
With an understanding chuckle, Lucy pulls her in for a hug. “As long as it works,” she comments. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” Genny responds. “Thanks for the invite.”
Lucy smiles, casting a glance towards Joy as Genny moves to hug her brother. “I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to spend an afternoon with both Bradford women.”
Tim hums, jokingly disapproving of the implications as he heads back into the kitchen, pouring four wine glasses.
Gesturing for Genny to take a seat on the couch, Lucy takes two of the glasses from Tim and brings them over.
That’s another thing Joy has noticed while she’s been staying here—Tim and Lucy tag-team wherever they can. Dishes, cooking, walking Kojo, even at work, from the sounds of it. It’s effortless, barely requiring words or a second thought, and neither of them ever shoulder too much weight.
“I still remember when they were at Little League,” Lucy comments, passing Genny her glass. “Coaching that was so much fun.”
That takes Joy by surprise. “You coached the boys?” she asks.
“Technically, I was assistant coach to Uncle Tim,” Lucy smiles. “It was back when we first started dating.”
“Lucy was much better at it,” Genny chimes in, grinning as Tim makes a sound of indignation from by the stove.
“I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
So Lucy’s integration into the family was effortless from day one. No wonder the boys feel so at home here. She’s family, through-and-through.
The boys’ laughter rings out from the backyard as Kojo barks, the patter of his paws racing down the grass.
“I’m so grateful you have Kojo,” Genny says. “That dog is the only reason I’ve been able to hold off on getting our own for so long—whenever the boys want dog-time, I can just steal him.”
“You’re welcome,” Tim calls out.
Lucy’s jaw drops, affronted. “Excuse me,” she says through a laugh, leaning over the back of the couch to look towards the kitchen, “you wouldn’t have our beautiful dog if it wasn’t for me. I think I get the credit here.”
Tim scrunches his face up, pretending to think on it. “Credit for taking on a responsibility you weren’t ready for and me having to step in to save you?” he jokes. “Right, of course—”
His words get interrupted by his laughter as Lucy speeds over to the kitchen, lightly swatting at him with the dishcloth he’d just set down. The sound warms Joy’s heart.
Plucking the dishcloth from her grasp, Tim steps away from the stove, handing Lucy the third glass of wine.
As she accepts it, Lucy glances around the kitchen. “You need a hand with anything in here?”
“No, no, I’ve got it. You go gossip about me while I work away.” Joy doesn’t think he could be smiling any wider, and even Lucy’s tut breaks through a smile. “I’m kidding. But really, I’ve got this. Go relax, baby; it’s been a long week.”
He shoos her out of the kitchen, wine glass in hand, and Lucy takes a seat on the couch next to Joy.
“Oh!” she exclaims suddenly, leaning closer to Genny. “How are your painting classes going?”
“Oh my God, they’re so much fun,” Genny says, pulling out her phone. “Let me show you the piece I made last week.”
And just like that, they’re talking like old friends, or like family. Joy gets folded in effortlessly, Lucy leaning in to listen as she regales a story about how she used to paint when she was young.
After a few minutes, Tim joins them. He leans against the back of the chair Genny’s sat on as he watches Lucy talk, her eyes lighting up as she recounts a story. Joy tries to be subtle about her glances in his direction, but it’s hard not to marvel at the way her son looks at his girlfriend with such reverence, like he’s holding on to every last word.
And when Lucy creates an opening for Tim to talk, the two of them once again tag-teaming a story involving some art criminal they arrested in their early days as training officer and rookie, Lucy gazes at Tim in the exact same way, like every word he says is made of stardust.
Watching Lucy listen to people is lovely, Joy realises, because she takes such an earnest interest in the people around her—whether that’s Joy, or the boys, or Genny, or Tim, or anyone at all. She cares about other people, wholeheartedly, and wants to know everything she can about their lives. Even over lunch, when Tim asks the boys about school, Lucy visibly hangs on to every word of their blasé responses.
When it’s time for goodbyes, Joy feels oddly emotional—not because it’s the end of something, but because it feels like it could be a new beginning. When she’d knocked on this very front door a few days ago, preparing to spend some real time with her son for the first time in years, she’d had no idea Lucy Chen existed.
Everything from that moment on has felt different, for the better.
While Tim loads her bags into the back of Genny’s car, Lucy pulls Joy in for a hug.
“It’s been so lovely spending time with you,” she says.
“The same goes for you,” Joy replies, but the words don’t feel adequate. When they pull apart, Joy takes Lucy’s hands, looking her in the eye. “I’m so glad my son has found someone as wonderful as you,” she says, “and I hope I get to keep being in your life.”
Lucy’s eyes go slightly misty, crinkling at the corners as she smiles. “Of course you will,” she promises. Her voice holds such honesty and love that Joy has no choice but to believe her. “Thank you.”
Before she can head for the car, Lucy pulls her in again, even tighter this time, and Joy finds herself overwhelmed with gratitude that her family has got that little bit bigger again after all these years.
Lucy’s promise wasn’t an empty one.
In the days and weeks after Joy returns home, she exchanges multiple messages with her son’s girlfriend. Lucy tells her about work and about Tim, and Joy talks about her friends and her book club—things that aren’t interesting to a young woman, admittedly, but Lucy expresses such a genuine interest that Joy can’t help but keep talking.
There’s even a group chat set up between her, Lucy, and Genny, and Joy treasures it as a reminder that Lucy wants to build a relationship with Tim’s family for her own sake, not just because she feels like she has to. They gossip and talk and, every so often, someone will send along an old picture of Tim that he remains unaware of.
And the first time Tim calls her, and she talks to him uninterrupted for an hour, she knows it’s down to Lucy’s influence on him—Tim admits as much, and Joy finds herself adding yet another item to her list of reasons she’s grateful for that woman.
Throughout their conversation, Tim talks about Lucy with so much love in his voice, and Joy gets to ask him more about her—how they met, when they fell in love, how excellent she is as a sergeant—and what touches Joy’s heart the most is that he doesn’t just tell her the highlights. He tells her all of it; the good, the bad, the complicated. Even if some of it breaks her heart, it’s all she’s ever wanted—her son’s honesty.
Joy learns about everything Tim and Lucy have survived. And after everything, they’re here, all the better for it, building a life together in their home.
When she hangs up, something hits Joy with startling clarity, something that, deep down, she’s known from the very first day: Lucy Chen is the one for her son.
And if Joy decides to pack her mother’s ring in her suitcase the next time she comes to visit, she doesn’t mention it to Tim right away. She knows he’ll arrive at the realisation on his own soon enough.