Page 5 of The Darkest Knight

I stare helplessly at the oven—it’s not something I use much. It probably belongs in the kitchen of a Michelin-starred restaurant, and is wasted here. I have no idea about the settings, but I know someone who can help.

"Anna!"

Chapter 3

CARI

I leave the office only forty minutes later than usual, which counts as a small miracle given the mountain of tasks Jett threw at me today. Tomorrow, I know he’ll have another list waiting, and the cycle will repeat.

Normally, I can handle it. I’ve always been good at my job—efficient, quick, a step ahead. But lately, focus has been harder to come by. My mom’s illness weighs on me constantly, like a storm cloud hovering over every thought, every action.

The memory of the day of her diagnosis is sharp, vivid, like it happened yesterday. Just over a year ago, she came home from the hospital after weeks of bloating and exhaustion that she’d brushed off as stress-related. I’m so grateful for this job, for being able to add my mom to the great health insurance that made it possible for my mom to go to Mount Sinai Hospital. I’ll never forget the way she sat me down, took my hands in hers, and said the words that split my world in two: late-stage ovarian cancer.

Even now, I can feel the shock rippling through me. Her smile faltered only for a second before she hugged me, whispering,we’ll get through this. It’s going to be fine.

I wanted so badly to believe her. But the surgery didn’t remove enough of the tumor, and four months of chemo left her weak and barely responsive. It wasn’t until a month ago, when she was accepted into a clinical trial, that hope began to flicker again.

It’s expensive—of course it is—and the extra medication she needs costs more than I’d make in a year. I was sure they'd added a couple of extra zeroes to the figure. This particular trialwas exclusive and in its early recruitment phases. I begged the powers that be to allow my mom to participate. The doctor must have relented, likely influenced by my breakdown—I was in hysterics, breaking down on the phone as I pleaded with him.

Jett might have overheard my frantic calls, but if he did, he never said a word. He just let me work through it, and never complained about the time I took for personal matters.

For all of his arrogance, he was… kind about it.

I was desperate enough to think I’d sell my soul if it meant saving her.

And then, somehow, it all worked out.

The trial was covered, and my mom was enrolled within days. I have no idea how it happened. Maybe my breakdown softened someone’s heart. Maybe someone upstairs decided to throw us a bone.

Now, as I step off the subway and make my way to the apartment, I hold onto that fragile hope. She’s going to get better. She has to get better.

The old apartment still feels like home, even though I moved out well before her diagnosis. Back then, it was me, Mom, and Aunt Scarlett—a chaotic but close-knit trio. I never knew my dad. He left when I was four months old, and Mom raised me on her own. Aunt Scarlett came and went as she pleased, her wild, nomadic life fitting seamlessly into our family dynamic.

Aunt Scarlett is a lot younger than my mom. She's free-spirited , and doesn't like being tethered down in any way, although she's got a hot new boyfriend who's a few years younger than her. She met him while working as a freelance photographer, so now they travel around a lot together.

Now, it’s just Mom and Aunt Scarlett together in the apartment since I moved out. But with mom’s illness, I wish more than ever that I hadn’t left. Mom used to work as an officeadministrator for a legal firm but she had to give up her job because she was so ill. When she had chemo she was throwing up a lot and feeling constantly weak and tired.

But Aunt Scarlett stepped in and is taking some time off of work and travel to be there for my mom. I appreciate her so much. Between us we make sure mom is taken care of, and we hold one another up when mom is sleeping, which is when our worries creep in like cockroaches, jarring our lives, scaring us to death.

What if mom doesn't get better? It's always there, a niggling, tiny seed of doubt, its tendrils snaking through my mind.

But I always shut it down.

I often tell mom that I’d like to move back in, and I’m sure Eliana will find another roommate, but my mom doesn’t want that. She's glad I moved out, and she encourages me to enjoy myself and have fun.

I sometimes feel like Aunt Scarlett and my mom are in cahoots and they don't always tell me everything. I sense that they don't want to burden me with my mom's illness.

But she's my mom. She's my everything—the only parent I have, and she means the world to me. She had an infusion yesterday and it makes her feel weak, which I'm told is normal. I can't wait for this to be over with, for the treatment to work and my mom to be well again.

I'm on my way to see my mom now, even though I'm meant to be meeting my friends, Eliana and Bianca, for drinks tonight. Eliana and I have a small place we rent together, and Bianca lives with her boyfriend.

The three of us are supposed to be going away for a long weekend soon, along with our boyfriends. We’ve booked a nice, cozy cabin and are planning to go snowshoeing or hiking, visit the Christmas markets, and snuggle up by the fireplace withhot toddies and wine while playing board games and binge-watching Netflix. I was looking forward to it. I needed a break, something to take my mind off things, something that would give me time and space to breathe.

I asked to meet up with them tonight, but now I wish I’d canceled. The thing is, I’ve got something important to tell them—something that impacts our weekend away. Or rather,myweekend. I pull out my phone and send a text.

Sorry, can't meet tonight. Can we move to tomorrow?

I want to tell them I can't come with them because I broke up with Rory. Ever since my mom got ill, he hasn't been there for me when I so badly needed support. Love isn’t supposed to be like that. You're meant to lean on each other even harder in times of need. He’s not the guy I thought he was, so I ended things. And to my surprise, he took it better than expected. I’m too exhausted to be heartbroken over it. My nerves are frayed, and my attention is fragmented. With the uncertainty of the coming months, it’s all become too much.

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