Zarah was back home.
The house had a weight that pressed down on Zarah the second she stepped inside. She could still smell the faint antiseptic clinging to her clothes from the hospital, and every corner of the living room seemed smaller, tighter, sharper.
Her mother was already in full swing, pacing back and forth, phone pressed to her ear, talking in clipped, impatient bursts. Aishah stood against the wall, silent, wide-eyed, watching the storm she knew was coming.
If anything this woman who claimed to be their mother was actually toxic.
Zarah exhaled slowly, shoulders stiff. She didn't want to say anything yet. She needed a moment to brace herself.
Her mother's gaze snapped to her the second she walked in.
"So, you've returned. How was your heroic hospital visit? Did you fix everything, or just make it worse?"
Zarah opened her mouth to reply, but the words felt like they were drowning in her throat.
"You think a few calls, a few donations, a little presence at the hospital is enough to save this family?" her mother continued, voice rising. "You don't see the real problem, do you? The bills are stacking. The insurance won't cover everything. You're letting everyone down, Zarah. Especially your father."
Alex, standing quietly near the doorway, didn't move. He didn't interrupt. He simply observed, his presence like a wall she could lean against if she fell.
"I've been doing everything I can," Zarah said, voice tight but trembling.
"Everything?" her mother barked, cutting her off. "You're working for a company that barely cares about you! And this man"—she gestured vaguely toward Alex—"keeps inserting himself into our lives. Boss, boyfriend, whatever you want to call him… and you let him? Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
Zarah's chest constricted. She wanted to scream. She wanted to collapse. Instead, she pressed her lips together, shaking from exhaustion, fear, and frustration.
"the fuck do you keeps interfering mother ? this same you opened your mouth to say we should appreciate him after he paid for dad's treatment and you are here saying he keeps inserting himself ?? what exactly do you want ?"
Aishah stepped forward, but her mother cut her off with a sharp glance.
"Quiet, both of you. You don't understand responsibility," she snapped.
"responsibility? can you even define responsibility mother ? you're truly impossible"
"cut the crap !" her mother yelled.
Zarah's hands trembled. She wanted to argue, to fight back—but the hospital, the ICU, the near loss of her father, had drained her. She was raw, exposed, vulnerable, and every word from her mother dug deeper.
Then Alex moved. Slowly, deliberately, closing the space between Zarah and her mother. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't shout. He didn't threaten.
"Mrs Morgan," he said calmly, voice low but firm, carrying weight without aggression, "with all due respect, your daughter saved her father's life. She was present, alert, and she acted. She didn't just sit there and hope things would fix themselves. You should thank her."
Her mother's mouth opened, closed, blinked in disbelief. She muttered something under her breath, but it was quiet—too quiet to carry power here.
"how dare you" the woman gritted turning to Alex with a cold face, "what are you still doing here ?? get out of my house"
Zarah could barely process the words. She was trembling, every nerve raw. Her mother's accusations had ripped her open, and Alex's calm intervention created a small, fragile space where she could breathe.
Her knees buckled slightly, and Alex instinctively reached out, taking her hand. The contact was grounding. Warm. Solid.
The tears came then, spilling freely. She hid her face in his shoulder, sobs wracking her body.
"Shh… it's okay," Alex whispered, holding her carefully. "It's okay to let it out. You don't have to hold everything in."
Zarah gripped him, letting herself be held, finally allowing the tension she'd carried for days to release. She didn't care about appearances, about her mother's judgment, about the world beyond the walls. For the first time since the hospital, she felt a tiny spark of safety.
Her mother scoffed from the dining table, muttering about uselessness, hard work, and responsibility. But Zarah ignored it. Alex's arms around her were louder, stronger, more comforting than any words her mother could throw.
Minutes passed. Alex didn't speak. He didn't judge. He simply remained—a pillar in the storm, an anchor in the chaos. And Zarah allowed herself to lean into it, into him, into something that wasn't broken, for just a moment.
When she finally raised her head, her eyes red, her makeup smeared, she whispered, barely audible, "Thank you."
Alex's gaze softened. "You don't owe me anything. You just… be okay, Zarah. That's enough."
For the first time in days, she felt a fragile, fleeting relief. A small, dangerous warmth that told her maybe, just maybe, she wasn't entirely alone in the world anymore.
After a few minutes of shaky relief, Zarah tried to stand, brushing past Alex's steady presence, determined to regain some normalcy. She moved toward the kitchen, attempting to prepare tea, her hands trembling despite her efforts to seem composed.
Her mother's gaze snapped to her again, sharp and accusatory.
"You're just going to sit there and make tea while the bills are piling up? Did you even check the bank today? Or are you just going to let Alex… whoever he is… pay for everything while you sit here, pretending you're capable?"
Zarah froze mid-motion, kettle in hand. She wanted to scream, to throw the mug against the wall, but instead, she exhaled and whispered under her breath.
"I can't do this…"
she couldn't believe it, this was the same woman who cried into her shoulders when she had first come back from the office two days ago. she was so toxic and annoying.
Alex moved closer, placing a hand lightly on her elbow. Not controlling, not commanding—just grounding her.
"You don't have to answer her, Zarah," he said quietly. "You've done enough today."
Her mother's voice cut sharper than glass. "Enough? Is that what you call enough? I worked harder than you could imagine, and look where it got me!"
Aishah, who had been standing silently, stepped forward this time. "Mom… please. Leave her alone."
"Quiet, both of you," their mother snapped again. "You don't understand anything ! useless both of you. i should have gotten a male child."
Zarah's chest tightened, but she let Alex guide her to the couch, hand still in his. Her knees sank into the cushions, exhaustion overtaking her.
Her mother scoffed, pacing the room, muttering insults and criticisms, but Alex didn't flinch. He stayed close, shoulder almost touching hers, silent yet unwavering.
Minutes passed. Zarah's tears returned, smaller now, but persistent. She buried her face into Alex's shoulder, muffling her sobs.
"Shh… let it out," he whispered. "It's okay. You don't have to fight all this alone."
She felt her body relax slightly against his, a fragile comfort she hadn't allowed herself in days. For once, she didn't need to argue, defend, or justify her presence or her choices. Alex simply held the line for her, and that small act of protection was more powerful than anything else she had experienced in this house.
Finally, Zarah raised her head, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his. "Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling.
"You don't owe me anything," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "Just… be okay. That's enough."