Ice & Prejudice

Chapter 35

Ria's POV:

Twelve years ago:

I was clutching my stuffed bear to my chest as I stood in the doorway of the living room. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the worn-out carpet. Mom was on the couch, her legs draped over the armrest, a glass of wine in one hand and her phone in the other. Brad, her boyfriend at the time, was sitting next to her, his hand resting possessively on her thigh.

"Mom, can you help me with my homework?" My voice was small, hesitant.

She didn't even look up. "Ask Gia," she mumbled, her eyes fixed on her phone.

"Gia's not here," I whispered, hoping she'd hear the need in my voice, the longing for just a sliver of her attention.

She sighed, finally glancing up at me. "Ria, I'm tired. I've been working all day. Can't you see I'm relaxing?"

"But I don't understand the math problem," I tried again, my grip tightening on the bear.

Brad laughed, a low, dismissive sound that made my cheeks burn with shame. "Kid's gotta learn to do things on her own, Marissa"

Mom smiled at him, a soft, almost dreamy smile, and nodded. "He's right, Ria. You're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."

I stood there for a moment, the weight of her indifference pressing down on my chest. Then, without another word, I turned and walked away, my heart heavy with the realization that I was always going to come second to whoever was sitting next to her on that couch.
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Seven years ago:

It was a cold winter evening. The kind that seeps into your bones and makes everything feel heavy. The heater had broken down again, and we were all huddled together in the living room, wrapped in blankets. Gia, Lia, and Mia were busy with their own things—Gia scrolling on her phone, Lia typing somthing on our laptop, and Mia reading a book. I was sitting closest to the small space heater, trying to warm my frozen fingers.

Mom was in the kitchen, on the phone with Steve, the latest in a long line of boyfriends. "Steve, can't you just come over? The girls are here, but they'll stay out of the way," she said, her voice low and pleading.

I watched as she paced back and forth, her free hand tugging at the hem of her sweater. She looked... desperate. I knew that look too well.

"Mom, can we have hot chocolate?" Mia asked, her voice cutting through the silence.

Mom sighed, waving her off without even turning around. "Not now, Mia. I'm busy."

"But it's so cold," Lia added, her teeth chattering.

Mom rolled her eyes, still focused on the phone. "I'll make it later. Just... I'll do it later, okay?"

Gia, always the responsible one, stood up and headed to the kitchen. "I'll make it," she said quietly.

Mom didn't notice. She didn't notice much when it came to us. We were background noise, static in the life she was trying so hard to build with whoever was in the picture at the time.

That night, as I lay in bed, buried under layers of blankets, I couldn't help but feel the cold settling in my heart. It was a different kind of cold—one that no amount of hot chocolate or space heaters could ever fix.

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Three years ago:

The day of the final court hearing was gray and overcast, matching the heaviness in my chest. We were supposed to leave for the courthouse in an hour. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to steady my breathing, when Mom walked in. She looked tired, her face drawn and pinched.