From the other side

Chapter 25

“Mama—what? You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Kamala cut in, a little too quickly. Her voice softened. “But I want to. I—I missed it, Lizzy. I missed your first day and I know I said I’d cook and bake that ridiculous cake and have the table set and be annoying and proud and ask a million questions you didn’t want to answer, and I didn’t do any of that.”

“Mama…”

“I’m in the car,” Kamala said again, as if that was some kind of absolution. “I’m already halfway there.”

There was a long pause on the line.

Then, quietly: “There’s leftover Chinese in the fridge. I didn’t have cake either.”

Kamala smiled through the lump in her throat. “Well. That’s about to change.”

Lizzy let out a soft laugh, tired and affectionate. “You don’t have to make up for anything, you know. You being okay matters more than any cake.”

Kamala blinked hard at the road.

“I just want to be your mom again today.”

“You never stopped.”

“I still want to try,” Kamala whispered.

There was silence, then Lizzy’s voice, lighter: “Okay. Come over, but only if you let me tell you about my torts professor. He’s a disaster.”

Kamala exhaled a laugh. “Deal. And I brought groceries. And cake mix.”

“Of course you did,” Lizzy murmured, smiling. “See you soon, Mama.”

Kamala hung up, heart a little steadier now. She turned onto Lizzy’s street, watching the sun bend over the rooftops like it was folding her into a warm embrace.

Today, she could still show up.

As soon as Kamala knocked on the door, she heard a clatter inside—something metallic, maybe a pot lid, maybe someone tripping over a shoe. She barely had time to smile at the sound before the door swung open.

“Mummy—” Lizzy started, then stopped herself with an exasperated laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Kamala stood on the threshold, holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a covered cake tin in the other. “You didn’t think I’d actually not show up, did you?”

Lizzy sighed, stepping aside. “Come in, you lunatic.”

Kamala swept past her like she owned the place, pressing a kiss to Lizzy’s cheek as she moved. “Missed your first day, not your whole life.”

From the kitchen, a loud and sudden gasp.

Noah.

He froze halfway between the sink and the counter, a half-stirred cup of tea in his hand, his eyes wide like a deer caught in high-powered presidential headlights. Kamala turned, locking eyes with him and offering a kind, if amused, smile.

Noah dropped the spoon into the cup with a sharp clink. “Oh my God.”

Kamala raised a brow. “Hi, Noah.”

“Ma’am. Madam Vice President. Kamala. I mean—Ms.—I mean—”

Lizzy closed her eyes like she was bracing for impact. “He’s short-circuiting. Please don’t tease him. Yet.”

Kamala laughed, slipping out of her coat and setting the cake tin down on the kitchen island. “Relax, Noah. I’m just here to feed my kid. And maybe interrogate you later. But mostly feed.”