There was a long pause after the talk of Bharath possibly returning to India.
Mia felt it in her stomach - the twisty, uncertain knot of “what if.” The kind that no amount of snuggling could untangle.
But sothing shifted then. Not in the room. Not in the light.
In them.
Marisol let out a soft sigh and sat up straighter, her hands running through her curls. She looked over at Sarah and Mia, and sothing had changed in her eyes. Still serious, still grounded - but… lighter.
“You know what?” she said suddenly. “Screw it.”
Mia blinked. “What?”
“We’ve spent so much ti worrying about what could go wrong,” Marisol said, her voice brightening. “What if we imagined what happens if it all goes right?”
Sarah looked up, a small grin tugging at her lips. “You an like… if we get the happy ending?”
“Yes,” Marisol said firmly. “Let’s dream a little.”
Mia sat up, her heart already skipping. “Okay. I’m in.”
Marisol looked thoughtful. “Alright, picture it. Let’s say he finishes his degree. Maybe he does a master's degree. Gets a great job here or convinces his dad to open a U.S. branch of their company.”
“Or,” Sarah added, eyes sparkling, “he starts sothing new here - sothing that's his. Maybe with our help. You know he’s brilliant.”
“He really is,” Mia whispered.
“We move in together,” Marisol said. “Sowhere with space. Maybe not flashy, but cozy. Big kitchen. A backyard.”
“A garden,” Sarah added. “With flowers and herbs. And maybe a hammock.”
Mia’s smile widened. “A little library nook. All his nerdy books. And mine too.”
“And a bathtub big enough for all of us,” Sarah teased.
Mia giggled. “At least four.”
The girls looked at her.
She flushed. “I an… if I’m still in.”
“Of course you are,” Marisol said gently, squeezing her hand.
“I better be,” Mia teased, though the emotion behind the words was real.
Sarah leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes. “We’d cook dinner together. Fight over music. Take turns spoiling him when he’s stressed. And every night, he’d co ho to us.”
“He’d never have to choose,” Marisol said. “He’d be ours, and we’d be his. All of us.”
Mia looked down at her hands, smiling. “What about Mami?”
There was a pause. A softer one.
“She may never love it,” Marisol admitted. “But maybe… over ti, she’ll see how happy we are. How much in love we are.”
“She already sees how much he’s changed you,” Sarah said. “And you’re still you, just… steadier.”
“Maybe I can help,” Mia whispered. “Show her I still care. Make sure I don’t lose her, either.”
The other two nodded, visibly touched.
“She’s your mother,” Sarah said. “But she’s not the only one who gets to define your future.”
Mia swallowed. “What about… the really far future?”
“Like five years from now?” Marisol asked.
Mia nodded.
“We’ll all have careers,” Sarah said. “We won’t just be ‘his girls.’ We’ll be ourselves. Educated. Driven.”
“And still in love,” Marisol added, softer now. “Deeper than ever.”
Mia thought about it - about a house filled with warm light and soft mornings, about the scent of fresh coffee and the way Bharath would curl sleepily around whichever of them he found first.
“Maybe… a baby?” she asked softly.
Both girls looked at her - not with shock, but with awe.
“Eventually,” Marisol said. “If it’s right.”
“We’d raise them together,” Sarah said. “All of us. The most loved children in the world. We would all be their mommies - regardless of who the birth mother is.”
Mia’s throat tightened. “I want that.”
“You’d be a great mom,” Marisol whispered.
“So would you,” Mia whispered back.
They all grew quiet again, but this ti… it was peaceful.
The dream wasn’t just fantasy. It could happen. It would take work. Sacrifice. Endless conversations and courage. But it wasn’t impossible.
And just maybe… it was already starting.
The sun was beginning its long descent by the ti Bharath returned.
He stepped up onto Sarah’s porch quietly, the weight of the walk still in his shoulders. It hadn’t cleared his mind - not entirely - but it had helped him accept one thing: he had to talk to them. All of them. About his father. His future. The uncomfortable truth he’d quietly carried from the mont he’d boarded the plane in Chennai.
He pushed the door open, bracing for noise, teasing, maybe music.
Instead, he heard only laughter. Soft. Low. Intimate.
And then - silence, broken by the scratch of pen on paper and the occasional flip of a page.
He stepped inside.
The living room was glowing in warm gold light. Not from lamps - from them. The girls were sprawled in a sunlit heap on the floor and couch cushions, all in casual clothes and soft socks. Marisol leaned against a pillow, her curls tied into a high knot, a notebook open on her knees. Mia lay belly-down on a blanket, scribbling into a pink spiral pad with her feet in the air. Sarah sat sideways against the couch base, surrounded by loose pages, a calculator, and a heavily highlighted college planning guide.
Notebooks were everywhere - tossed open, stacked in uneven piles, pens in every direction like little arrows of intent.
The air slled faintly of cinnamon gum and ballpoint ink.
And all three girls were beaming.
Bharath froze in the doorway, suddenly unsure whether to laugh or cry.
He’d left to get his head on straight - and they'd stayed behind and quietly organized the universe.
He cleared his throat.
Three heads turned at once.
“Bharath!” Mia sat up imdiately, grinning. “You’re back!”
“We got carried away,” Sarah said, gesturing to the chaos around them.
“Did you study bomb the apartnt?” he asked.
Marisol raised a hand lazily. “We’re fixing my sister’s entire academic life.”
Mia puffed up proudly. “I have a GT plan now. With color-coded deadlines. It’s terrifying.”
Bharath took a few steps in, his brow furrowed as he looked over the ss - schedules, test prep plans, application outlines, even a flowchart with “Financial Aid: Best-Case/Worst-Case” in block letters.
He blinked. “How long was I gone?”
“Not long,” Sarah said with a small laugh. “We’re just that good.”
He smiled - but it didn’t fully reach his eyes.
They noticed.
Marisol sat up straighter. “You okay?”
“I… yeah. I just need to say sothing.”
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