Chapter 3 MOTHERHOOD

"Home sweet home," I mumble under my breath sarcastically.

Rodri grins, his gap-toothed smile lighting up the car. "Home!" he chirps, like we're pulling up to a mansion instead of a cramped little house with chipped paint. God, I wish I could see the world through his eyes.

I'm hit with the smell of... what is that? Sour milk? Something definitely died in here. I glance around, and it's like the mess multiplied while we were gone. There are dishes piled high in the sink, a mountain of laundry on the couch, and crumbs everywhere, like Rodri's been hosting some secret cracker-eating contest I didn't know about.

"Alright, kiddo, upstairs," I say, forcing a smile. "Go change into your PJs, and I'll call you when dinner's ready."

Leo starts to protest, but I give him *the look*, the one every mom masters by the time their kid turns two. He sulks a little but grabs his toy and trudges to his room, his little feet stomping on each step like he's making sure I know he's not happy about it.

The second he's out of sight, I let out a groan and drop my purse on the table. My hands find my hips as I take in the disaster zone that is my life. Where do I even start? The dishes? The laundry? The sticky spot on the floor that I keep pretending isn't there?

I grab a sponge and start scrubbing the counter, trying to ignore the ache in my back and the heaviness in my chest.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to be 25, raising a kid on my own, and drowning in bills and responsibilities. But here I am, scrubbing dried-up ketchup off the counter, wondering how the hell my life got so... messy.

It all goes back to him. The guy who swore up and down that he loved me, that he'd "always be there." What a joke. The second I told him I was pregnant, he bailed faster than a bad date. And my dad, God, I miss him. He was supposed to be the one supporting me, the one person who could make me feel like I wasn't completely screwing up my life. But he's gone now, and since then, it's been all on me. Me to keep my mom afloat. Me to help my sisters through school. Me to be everything for everyone, including Rodri.

I scrub harder, my knuckles turning white as the sponge squeaks against the counter. There's no one to lean on. No one to tell me it's okay to fall apart. I've got to keep it together because if I don't, who will?

"Mama?" Rodri's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I whirl around to see him standing at the bottom of the stairs, his PJs slightly crooked and his toy tucked under his arm. His big brown eyes, so much like mine, wide.

"What's up, baby?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

He hesitates, shifting from foot to foot. "Why don't I have a daddy?"

And there it is. The question I've been dreading since the day he was born. I freeze, my heart sinking to my stomach. How do I even begin to answer that? How do I explain that his dad is a selfish coward without breaking his little heart?

I kneel down so we're eye level and brush a curl out of his face. "You know, sometimes families look different," I say softly. "Some kids have a mommy and a daddy, and some have just a mommy or just a daddy. But you know what? No matter what, you've got me. And I love you more than anything in the whole world. Okay?"

He blinks up at me, his little mind probably working to process what I've said. Then he smiles, "Okay, Mama," he says, wrapping his arms around my neck in a hug that almost knocks me over.

I hold him tight, wishing I could freeze this moment and keep him small forever. "Now, go play for a bit while I finish cleaning, alright?"

"'Kay!" He runs off, his earlier question already forgotten, and I sink to the floor, leaning against the cabinet. The tears come before I can stop them, spilling down my cheeks and soaking the front of my shirt.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. I didn't ask for this life, for this constant struggle, for the weight of the world on my shoulders. I didn't ask to be both mom and dad, to fix everything that's broken while pretending I'm not breaking too.

But as much as I wanted to sit here and cry forever, I know I can't. I still had a lot to do.

"Mom?" Rodri yells, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I'm waiting." He said and I suddenly remembered I was supposed to help him bathe.

I turned off our dinner and hurried upstairs to the bathroom which of course was a disaster.

"Oh fuck." I whisper to myself.