And finally—the climbing wall. To my surprise, my mom went first. She didn’t fall. She made it to the top. And when she climbed down, her eyes were shining.
***
Theo’s house was stunning. Neat. Cozy.
We sat on the terrace, watching as Theo grilled steaks nearby, the sun sinking lower in the sky. Mom relaxed, truly at ease for the first time in a while.
“You know… I think I was too quick to judge, honey. I was scared because your father left. I didn’t want you to get hurt like I did.”
“But Mom, it’s my life. I need to make my own mistakes. Find my own way.”
Theo came over, carrying two plates, and then, without warning, dropped to one knee.
“Eliza, these past three months have been the happiest of my life. I want to share everything with you—my home, my life… all of it. And yes, even see your mom—just not more than twice a week. Will you marry me?”
Mom nudged me, grinning. “I would’ve said yes already.”
“YES! Of course—YES!”
***
Mom changed—she started Pilates and bought a floral swimsuit. Our coffee dates turned into chats between friends, and we both found our own lives while staying family.
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