The hallway leading to Bronte's apartment seemed to grow longer and longer the more she walked down it.Her palms were sweaty and her whole body shook just at the thought of seeing her mother again. Part of her expected the apartment to be empty and her mother to be at work, but then there was another part that was hoping she was home, just this once.
She stopped in front of the door, hesitating to knock. Her fist hovered in front of the wooden frame, her body swaying back and forth.
Why was she home? Her mother was probably at work and hadn't spared her a single thought. Maria Richards was most likely sitting in her little cubicle at her office, scribbling down notes that her boss had told her to get ready. Their next meeting was probably in a few hours, which didn't help reassure the blonde.
Her mother wasn't home.
So why was she so scared?
Bronte sighed, letting out a shaky breath. She knocked on the door, the sound echoing down the hall.
She waited, but nothing happened.
There were no footsteps inside, no one scrambling to the door, no one screaming, "I'll be there in a sec!"
Bronte was all alone in her apartment complex's hallway, with the thought that her mother let her down. Once again.
She dropped her head and turned on her heel, thinking of going back to camp early. Percy would be mad at her, but she didn't want to be alone anymore.
The blonde almost made it to the end of her hallway, when she heard her name be called.
"Bronte?"
She turned around and saw the one person she needed most in that moment.
Standing there, in the center of the hallway, was Maria Richards, with tears streaming down her face. She looked tired, as if she hadn't slept in days. Bronte knew she must have looked the same, but that didn't matter.
Bronte didn't take a second before sprinting towards her mother and jumping into her arms.
The two fell to the ground, hugging each other like their lives depended on it. Bronte clutched her mother's cardigan, tears soaking the material.
Maria ran her hand through her daughter's curly hair, untangling the knots as she went. She whispered soft phrases of reassurance, telling her that everything would be okay.
Neither of them knew how long they sat on the floor, but soon enough, people started to come out of their apartments to see who was making so much noise.
And so they moved into their home, continuing to embrace each other.
"Oh, Bronte! I was worried sick! I came home from work and I saw your note! I just, I didn't know what to think or who to call! I just—"
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 𝒋𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏
Fantasy❛ 𝐢 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐞'𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲, "𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬" ❜ ...