Chapter 163 Chapter 163

Chapter 163 Chapter 163
Aurelia

“From the hospital,” she confirmed easily. No tension, no hesitation. Just a simple truth placed on the table Like she’d already made peace with it a long time ago, I stared at her for a second. Then I asked, quieter, “For how long?”
She shrugged lightly. “A while,” she said. “I don’t want to put a number on it yet.” That was so her: no over-planning, no rigid structure when it came to her own breathing space.

I leaned back. "Okay, I fully support this. You’ve been going nonstop for years.” Mom laughed softly at that, not offended at all.
“I’ll still exist,” she said lightly. “Just not inside schedules every hour of the day.” Talon’s father nodded once like that made perfect sense. “Good decision,” he said simply. No extra commentary No evaluation, just acceptance.

Talon finally spoke without looking up fully. “You’re traveling?” he asked.
“Yes,” Mom replied.
“Where.” I asked.
“I’ll decide when I feel like it,” she said.

That made Amy point at her. “That is the most powerful answer I’ve ever heard in my life," she said. Mom smiled again, relaxed. “It’s not complicated.” She said, and it wasn't. That was the part that stayed with me. She wasn’t leaving anything behind dramatically. She wasn’t escaping anything.
She was just… choosing a different pace. Then she looked at me properly again. And her expression softened in that way it always did when it was just us, not worried, not heavy, just warm. “I’ve already seen what I needed to see,” she said gently.

I frowned a little. “What does that mean?"
She tilted her head slightly. “You’re okay," she said. It wasn’t said like reassurance. It was said like confirmation. Like she had been watching that slowly become true over time and finally didn’t need to keep checking it anymore.I felt something loosen in my chest at that, not emotional pressure. Just that quiet release of knowing she wasn’t carrying that concern anymore, I leaned slightly toward her. “I am okay,” I said simply.

“I know,” she replied immediately, like she trusted it completely now. That was it. No emotional buildup No dramatic exchange Just understanding Amy stretched dramatically beside me. "Okay, so your mom is basically retiring from stress, and I fully respect it," she said.
Mom glanced at her. “It’s not retirement.”

“It’s emotional retirement,” Amy corrected confidently. That actually made my mom laugh. The kind of laugh that didn’t feel like it belonged in boardrooms or hospitals And I realized something then: I hadn’t heard her laugh like that in a while, not because she wasn’t happy, just because she hadn’t slowed down enough to let it happen often. Talon stood up eventually, moving toward the kitchen without much urgency. “Dinner?” he asked casually.

Amy raised a hand. “Yes. I am emotionally hungry from this conversation.” She said that broke the moment cleanly. Later, the house drifted back into its usual rhythm.
People moving, talking quietly, settling in between rooms. I stayed in the kitchen for a bit after everyone scattered, leaning against the counter while waiting for water to boil. Mom walked in a few minutes later. Just her, no urgency. No announcement energy left She came beside me and bumped my shoulder lightly with hers.

That small familiar gesture she’s always done since I was younger. “You good?” she asked. I nodded immediately. “Yeah. You?”
“Very,” she said simply. Then she glanced around the kitchen like she was already mentally outside it. “I think I’m going to enjoy not being on call every minute,” she added. I smiled slightly. “You deserve that.” She looked at me just softly.

“You’re settled here,” she said again, like she was confirming it to herself more than anything. I leaned my head lightly against her shoulder for a second. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I am.”
“Thank you," I said softly. She looked at me. “For What?” she asked.

“For everything. For working so hard to make sure I had it all and for being the best mom ever. You deserve a break," I said, and she just hummed softly in agreement. No overthinking, no emotional weight. Just calm acceptance between a mother and daughter who already understood each other without needing to push anything further And for the first time, it didn’t feel like anything in my life needed to be questioned anymore. Not here. Not anymore.

Aurelia

It started late. Like, way past normal “we should be asleep” hours Silverridge was quiet in that heavy, late-night way where even the city outside felt like it was holding its breath.

I was in Talon’s room, sitting cross-legged on the bed with my hoodie pulled over my hands, scrolling on my phone without really reading anything. He was at his desk. Not working fast or typing aggressively like usual. Just sitting there with one hand resting near his keyboard, the other holding a pen he wasn’t even using that already told me something was off; he doesn’t sit still like that unless his brain is somewhere else entirely. I glanced up at him. “You’ve been staring at that screen for like ten minutes,” I said.

“I’m thinking," he replied.
“That’s dangerous," I said, and he didn’t react right away.
Then, "Why?" he asked.

“Because when you think too long, it usually means something is about to become my problem too.” I said, and that got a faint breath out of him. Not quite a laugh But close enough that I noticed.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, finally looking away from the screen. “It’s not a problem,” he said.
“That sounds like a lie.” I said
“It’s not," he said. I tilted my head at him. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Then what is it?" He didn’t answer immediately, which was rare.

Talon usually has answers ready before questions finish forming. That pause already shifted the room a little. He finally stood up and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me close enough that I could feel the shift in his energy.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I’ve been thinking about timing,” he said.
“Timing for what?" I asked.

"Everything," he replied. I blinked. “That’s vague even for you.” A small pause Then, quieter, “future structure," he replied. That made me sit up a little. Not because it sounded dramatic Because it sounded serious in his way Which is different.

He ran a hand through his hair once, then let it drop again. “It’s not about instability,” he added quickly, like he knew what it sounded like. “Okay,” I said softly. “Then what is it about?" There was another pause. It's longer this time. And then he said it.
“Expectation.” That word sat between us for a second. I didn’t interrupt, and he kept going.

“People don’t wait for things to slow down,” he said. “They adjust around them. And once something becomes stable enough, they expect it to keep expanding.”
I frowned slightly. “That sounds like a corporate problem,” I said.