Theea
a lost son is called a prodigal
Her question pulls me up out of the heavier thoughts. I blink, then smile, brighter as it spreads across my face. “My mom’s Ashetta Yla.” There’s pride in it. Real pride. Even if not everyone knows the name anymore, I say it like they should. “Not everybody knew her. But she was known enough, back in the day.” I glance down for a moment, fingers fiddling with the edge of my sleeve. There’s no sadness in my voice when I say it, but there’s a pause just the same. “She’s... hard to find these days.”I lift my head again as Melita straightens, and when she says she’d ask Ludo, I feel that ache swell in my chest again—but it’s a different kind this time. Hope, sharp and sudden. If Ludo had any idea what I could do—what I should do—it would change so much.
For a moment I can’t speak. Just nod, quick and grateful, my smile faltering only because I don’t know how to hold that much emotion all at once.
Then comes her reaction to Remi, and it’s enough to coax another real smile from me and leave that overwhelming hope where it can’t take over. “Yeah.” I nod again, more sure now. “He is. So is Ronin. My mom was like their sister, back when they were all... younger, I guess. Years ago.”
I glance down at the statue again, then back to Melita, heart warm in a way I haven’t let it be in a long time.
“She always called them my uncles. I only just found them recently. Met them first at the barbeque—” I pause, then huff a laugh. “He was wearing a ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron, and there was a food fight so, you know. Humbling introduction to your mythic family.”
But my chest is full, and for a moment I let myself feel it—this tangle of pride and longing and connection that’s just starting to rebuild itself. “I’m really lucky. Why, do you know Remi well?”
a lost daughter is just called lost
