Still Mommy's Little Girl

Kiara Cole stands in the kitchen, sobbing. Milk soaks into the floorboards. The baby shrieks from the nursery. Burned cheese blackens on the stove. She reaches for her phone with shaking hands and calls the only person who might fix any of it. Cory arrives in soft heels and takes charge without raising her voice. Dishes get rinsed. The bottle finds its way upright again. A glass of water appears in Kiara’s grip. Yet the tears keep coming, because something deeper feels broken. “Stop beating yourself up,” Cory murmurs, wiping mascara from her cheek. “You’re allowed to need help.” Her palm lingers, warm. The kindness unhinges Kiara. “I love you more than I should,” Kiara whispers, eyes bright. Cory smiles slowly, as if the secret has finally surfaced. “Me too,” she answers, voice low. They kiss once—soft, testing. Then deeper. Kiara pulls at the collar of Cory’s blouse, hungry for every inch she’s never tasted. Cory sinks to her knees first, dragging Kiara’s underwear aside and sealing her mouth around the slick heat waiting for her. Her tongue traces slow circles; Kiara’s breath breaks into small cries. Then Kiara tugs her mother onto the sofa, spreading Cory wide and returning the favor, lapping eagerly at a wetness she now claims as hers. They already know this won’t be the last time. The girl she once was finishes with a promise: she’ll always stay Mommy’s little girl.