Recaptured Heart

The warm scent of ripe bananas greeted me as I steered my cart into the superstore. My list was short — just enough to get us through the weekend — but my mind had already drifted home to Lily, curled on the couch with flushed cheeks and a cold cloth on her forehead.

I balanced my phone between my shoulder and ear, maneuvering one-handed down the cereal aisle.

"She threw up again?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah. Just once this morning, but she's been queasy since yesterday. I'm keeping her home till Monday," I said, lowering my voice as I passed a cluster of teens giggling over cartoon cereal boxes. "Liam flat-out refused to go to school without her."

"That boy," Sarah chuckled. "Twins."

"He said the class feels weird without her. Isn't that sweet?"

I smiled, reaching for a box of oats. My mind flipped through a quiet checklist — cough syrup, juice, something to tempt Lily's fading appetite. I rounded the corner, distracted — and then—

Thud.

"Oh no— I'm so sorry!" I gasped as my cart collided with someone. A leather purse hit the floor with a soft whump. I dropped my phone and scrambled forward. "I didn't see—are you okay?"

The woman straightened slowly, elegant in a beige blouse and tailored coat. Salt-and-pepper hair swept into a low chignon. Gold bangles shimmered on her wrist. She had that kind of presence — the kind that made you apologize twice.

"I'm fine," she said, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. Then her eyes met mine.

And something shifted.

Cold. Sharp. Familiar.

She stared.

"Wait…" Her voice, crisp and unmistakable. "Don't I know you?"

I held out her purse with a cautious smile. "Um… I'm not sure, ma'am."

Her gaze narrowed, probing. "You're Sandra, aren't you?"

My heart faltered. Years had passed, but I'd know that voice anywhere — clipped, composed, commanding.

Just like her son's.

"Yes," I said softly. "I am."

Her lips pressed into a polite line. Chin lifted. "Well. It's been a while."

I nodded. Silence settled between us — heavy and fragile. My fingers curled tightly around the cart handle.

"I hope you're well," I offered, my tone more civil than warm.

"As well as one can be," she replied, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

The air turned brittle. A memory waiting to unravel.

"I'm sorry again… for the cart."

"Of course. Accidents happen."

And then she turned — heels clicking away without another word.

I stood frozen, pulse pounding in my ears. Of all people. Of all aisles. Why her?

Victoria.

Andre's mother.

The last woman I wanted to see again — especially with a basket full of juice boxes, banana bread, and no warning. No explanation.

My phone buzzed on the floor. I picked it up with shaking fingers.

"Hello?" Sarah's voice crackled through. "Sandra? What happened? I heard a crash and—"

"Sarah," I whispered, staring at the end of the aisle. "You won't believe who I just ran into."

"Who?"

"Victoria. Andre's mother."

Silence.

Then: "Wait — what?"

"She recognized me. I bumped her with my cart. Looked me right in the eye. Said my name. She seemed… polite?"

"You think she's changed?"

"I don't know. But the way she looked at me, Sarah… it felt like I had a spotlight on my back."

My chest tightened. I made for the checkout, throwing things onto the counter with trembling hands. The moment I stepped into the parking lot, I wanted to disappear. My phone buzzed again — a message from Sarah.

"What if she starts asking questions?"

"You need to be ready, Sandra."

I stared at the screen, then at my reflection in the car window.

I should've never gone to that store.

Inside my purse, the receipt fluttered in the breeze. Printed neatly at the top:

Sweet Haven Bakery – Children's Allergy Syrup

The past didn't knock. It barged in, loud and uninvited.

By the time I unlocked the front door, my arms ached from grocery bags, and my chest still hummed with anxiety. But all of it vanished the second I heard—

"Mummy's home!"

Liam's little feet thudded across the hall. He launched himself at my legs before I could even shut the door.

"Careful, baby," I laughed, balancing the juice. "I almost dropped your sister's medicine."

"Lily said she heard you, but I didn't believe her!" he grinned.

"She's got magical ears."

He followed me into the kitchen, a constant stream of chatter — about dragons, marshmallows, and how he saved her the last pink one "even though pink is the best."

I set the kettle on and headed to the living room. Lily lay bundled on the couch, cheeks too pink, eyes half-lidded — but the moment she saw me, she smiled.

"Hi, mummy."

"Hi, my brave girl." I knelt beside her, brushing damp hair from her face. "Still feeling icky?"

She nodded weakly.

"I got you apple juice. And strawberry yoghurt with rainbow sprinkles."

That earned a smile — tiny, but real.

Liam climbed up beside her, taking her hand in his like a little knight.

"I didn't want to go to school without her," he announced. "I wanted to protect her."

"I know," I said, ruffling his curls. "You're her hero."

He puffed out his chest. "I'm drawing her a dragon to scare the sick bugs away."

"Perfect. While you do that, I'll give her some medicine."

I fed Lily hot chicken soup, gave her the syrup, then handed her a banana to soothe the bitterness. She was asleep again within minutes. I carried her to my bed and tucked her in gently.

She lay curled in the middle like a little question mark, one hand on her bunny, the other on my pillow. Her fever had finally eased.

There's something about watching your child sleep — it makes you feel like a warrior and a ghost at the same time. You'd fight the world to keep them safe… and still fear it'll come knocking anyway.

I returned to the living room. Liam was on the floor, legs kicking as he colored in his dragon.

I sat beside him. "She's sleeping now."

He nodded solemnly. "Good. I told her the dragon has extra fire breath today."

"She'll be safe, then."

There was a pause. Then he asked it.

"Mummy… do we have a daddy?"

I stilled.

Not the first time. A few months ago, Lily had asked if he was invisible. Liam had guessed he was a soldier. Back then, I'd hidden behind cartoons and juice boxes.

But now?

They were older. Wiser.

"Why do you ask?" I asked gently.

Liam shrugged. "Some kids at school said everyone has a dad. Even if he's not around."

"That's true," I said quietly.

He looked up. "Do we?"

I didn't answer right away.

How do you explain a man who never knew you carried his children? How do you tell them about love that broke you so badly, you couldn't breathe — let alone speak?

"Mummy?" Liam's voice softened, eyes searching mine.

I forced a smile. "One day, sweetheart. I'll tell you everything. When you're ready. When I'm ready too."

He nodded, accepting that. For now.

But the truth pulsed inside me, raw and unresolved.

They deserve to know. About Andre. About the man whose smile they wear like a mirror. About everything.

But not yet.

I smoothed Liam's curls — so much like his father's — and pulled him into my lap. He held up the dragon drawing proudly.

"Let's read until Lily wakes up," I said.

And as I wrapped my arms around him, I whispered silently to the storm still brewing in my chest—

One day… I'll tell them everything.

Just not yet.