Page 172 of Faking the Goal

She endured years of trying to keep our family together, hoping Dad would loosen his grip and things would eventually get better. But when they only got worse—when every decision we made, every grade we earned, every dream we had became something for him to measure and control—and she saw what that constant pressure was doing to me and Miho, she finally had enough.

She packed our things, took us by the hand, and walked away from the life she'd spent years building because she chose us instead.

That was never failure.

It was one of the bravest things I've ever watched her do.

"I know you don't," she says with a watery smile. "Still, that doesn't stop a mother from wondering what she could've done differently."

I shake my head.

"You did."

Her brows knit together.

"You saved us." My voice is quiet, but certain. "The day you decided we'd had enough and took Miho and me with you... you saved us."

I hold her gaze, hoping she can see how much I mean every word.

"I couldn't have asked for a better mother, Ma."

A fresh tear escapes before she can stop it.

I lean across the table and gently dab the corner of her eye with my thumb.

"You know I don't like seeing you cry."

A soft sound escapes her, somewhere between a laugh and a sniffle.

"Oh, silly me." She waves a hand in front of her face as though that might somehow shoo the tears away. "I swear I'm getting worse with age." She chuckles, embarrassed. "The older I get, the easier these tears sneak up on me."

She takes one last breath before smiling at me again.

"Hey, Harumi... is something wrong?"

Taylor's worried voice pulls both of our attention toward her.

I hadn't even noticed she'd walked over.

Mom is already smiling before Taylor reaches us, neatly tucking away the emotion that had been written all over her face a few seconds ago.

"Oh, I'm alright, sweetheart." She gives Taylor's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Something just got in my eye."

Taylor studies her for another second, her brows still pinched with concern.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Mom pats her arm affectionately before her eyes widen slightly. "Oh! I almost forgot why I came down here."

She turns fully toward Taylor, that unmistakable motherly smile settling across her face.

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I was hoping you'd spend it with us."

Taylor blinks, genuine surprise flashing across her face. Her lips part, then close again.

"Uhm..." She presses them together. "I don't—"

"And before you say no," Mom cuts in gently, "I won't accept it."