Page 10 of Penalized Love

I bite back a sarcastic retort. “Mom, I’m okay. Seriously.”

“We’ll get you settled in, and then your mom and I will leave you alone for a while,” Dad chimes in.

That sounds all right to me. We go to the front door together, and we are immediately greeted by Bella, our golden retriever. Her golden coat shines in the light, her tail wagging so fast it's almost a blur. As if sensing that I need the most attention, or perhaps because it's been a while since she's seen me, Bella comes to me first, nudging my hand with her nose. Her boundless energy is something I truly missed while I was abroad.

“Hello, old girl,” I say as I slowly bend down to greet her. She gives me several kisses, and I can't help but laugh. She knows exactly what I need.

Once we finish our greeting, I stand up and notice the familiar scent that can only be described as home greets me.Mom or Dad must have put dinner in the slow cooker, and whatever it is smells amazing. It reminds me of all the times as a kid when Mom would fix dinner this way because we were always on the go between my dad’s schedule and the activities Grace and I took part in.

“We’ll bring your bags up in a bit,” Mom says, already heading for the kitchen. “Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll bring you something warm to drink. Maybe tea?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to take a bath first. Is that okay?” I answer.

“Of course.” Mom pauses for a second. “Do you need any help?”

I shake my head, already heading for the stairs. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

I make my way upstairs to my room, fighting the urge to collapse onto my bed. It’s almost like a time capsule from when I was in high school. Posters of my favorite bands and photography awards still cover the walls. A picture frame sits on the nightstand with a photo of Selene and me, both of us smiling without a care in the world. Behind it is a secret I've been keeping. It's an older photo of Asher and me, from when we were happy and in love.

At first, I had placed it there as a symbol of our relationship hiding in plain sight. Now, it’s just something I never had the courage to get rid of because it was such a cute photo. Not that any of that matters now.

Overall, I can’t help but feel a strange mix of nostalgia and discomfort, as if I’ve stepped back into a version of myself I thought I had moved on from.

Instead, I walk toward my bathroom and am thrilled to see that Mom also restocked everything there. With a heavy breath, I lock the door behind me and turn the faucet on.

As I wait for the water to fill up, I catch my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes, skin paler than usual. The messy ponytail I put my hair in before I left Italy is still intact. I look as exhausted as I feel.

I rub a hand across my chin and feel the stubble. The more pronounced hair on my face makes me want to cry. I do my best to hide it, but having to shave so often just to not feel self-conscious sometimes feels like a job in itself. Sure, it only takes a minute, but it’s another checkmark on the list of things that make me feel broken. I open the brand-new razor Mom left me and get to work removing the hair as a tear slides down my face.

I watch myself in the mirror and think about the first time I noticed it. I was twelve, maybe thirteen, and I wondered why my face didn’t look as smooth as the other girls'. Back then, I tried to pretend it didn't bother me, but it did. It still does.

Once I'm done, my skin feels smooth, but it doesn’t bring me much comfort. It's a temporary fix for something I wish I didn’t have to deal with at all.

I toss a rose-scented bath bomb into the water. Once the water is at my desired depth, I peel off my travel-worn clothes and sink into the warm water, hoping it will soothe the aches and pains coursing through my body.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on relaxing and smelling the scent of roses. But my mind keeps drifting back to the whirlwind of the past few days. The sudden, intense pain that had me doubled over in my room in Rome. The frantic calls to my parents and being taken to the hospital. And then, before I knew it, I was on a plane back home.

A sharp cramp in my lower abdomen makes me wince. I take a deep breath, willing the pain to go away. This isn’t how I pictured starting my junior year of college. I was supposed to be exploring Europe, learning more about its art and culture.Instead, I’m back in my childhood bathroom, trying to calm the war going on within me.

After soaking until the water turns lukewarm, I dry off and change into my comfiest pajamas. When I open the bathroom door, the smell of chicken noodle soup greets me. That must be what is in the slow cooker. My stomach growls, reminding me I didn’t eat on the plane.

I spy my suitcases sitting near the end of my bed, informing me that my parents brought my things up for me. I debate whether I want to go downstairs to eat at the dining room table or stay here to eat in bed. Eating in bed sounds too good to resist, so I find my phone in my bookbag. I turn off airplane mode and quickly text my mom to let her know my decision before crawling under the covers.

I’ve barely settled in when there’s a soft knock at my door. “Come in,” I call out, wincing at the slight tremor in my voice.

Mom and Bella enter my room. Bella hops on my bed and gets comfortable near my feet while Mom is balancing a tray with what looks like a steaming bowl of soup, a mug of what smells like chamomile tea, a small plate of crackers, and some medicine. “Here’s dinner,” she says, setting the tray on my nightstand.

“Thanks for bringing it up for me,” I say, genuinely grateful. The aroma of the soup makes my stomach growl again.

She hovers for a moment, clearly wanting to say more. “No problem. Do you need anything else? Extra pillows? Another blanket?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m good. Really.”

She nods but doesn’t move. “Okay. I’ll let you rest. Let me know if you need anything else.”

I force a smile. “I will, Mom. Thanks.”

Finally, she leaves, closing the door behind her. I let out a long breath, reaching for the soup to get something in mystomach before I take the medication. As I eat, I scroll through my phone, seeing messages from my friends who are still in Rome, asking how I’m doing. I swallow a heavy lump in my throat as I realize what my leaving caused. My eyes fill with tears as I think about the fact that I won’t be returning.

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