Chapter 9 - Roots and Sunlight
A year later, the world had completely forgotten about Golden Morning Mama.
In the fast-paced, ephemeral ecosystem of social media, scandals burned bright for a week and then were swallowed by the next wave of internet drama. Vanessa had reportedly moved across state lines to live with our mother-in-law, attempting to rebuild a quiet, offline life far away from the town where her curated illusion had collapsed. We hadn't heard from her since the final court date, and the silence was the most expensive gift our family could have ever received.
Our house looked different now.
The front porch was draped in real, non-sponsored autumn wreaths made of dried leaves and pinecones that Lily and I had gathered together in the woods behind our neighborhood. There were no ring lights, no smartphones mounted on tripods, and no schedules dictating when our family was allowed to be happy.
On a warm Sunday afternoon in late September, exactly one year after the day the pink bucket hat came off, I stood at the kitchen sink washing fresh apples.
Through the open window, I could hear Lily and Chloe playing tag in the backyard. Chloe spent most weekends with us now—her mother having finally agreed to a custody arrangement that allowed the young girl to experience a childhood free from filters, sponsorships, and performance anxiety.
Lily’s hair had grown back past her shoulders now. It wasn't the neat, rigid princess braid of her past; it was a wild, thick mass of dark curls that bounced and caught the sunlight as she ran across the green grass, her laughter echoing clear and free into the afternoon air.
Ryan walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin softly on my shoulder. He smelled of fresh coffee and sawdust from the bookshelf he was building in the study.
"What are you smiling at?" he asked softly, kissing the side of my neck.
May you like
I looked out the window, watching Lily trip over her own sneakers, tumble into the grass, and bounce right back up without a single care in the world, her curls flying wildly around her face like a halo of absolute freedom.
"Nothing," I said, turning in his arms to pull him close. "Just watching the view."
