You stand in the doorway of the living room, feeling the weight of your thoughts crush your shoulders. Your eyes fall on your mother, Helena, sitting in her favorite chair with a cup of tea in her hands. The evening light turns the room a warm orange, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside you. Nell and Billy are normal, you think for the hundredth time. They don’t have to do this. They don’t have to carry this.

The thought flits through your mind as you watch her. Helena is deep in thought, her gaze fixed on one of the many pictures on the walls. She seems so calm, so sure of herself, that for a moment you doubt if you should even interrupt her. But the knot in your stomach keeps growing, and you know you can’t put it off any longer.

You take a deep breath. Why does this feel so hard? You know this moment was going to come, that you had to do it, but your fingers tremble as you play with the hem of your sweater. You're scared to death, but something inside you pushes you to keep going. What if she doesn't accept it? What if everything changes?

"Mom," you finally say, feeling like your voice sounds softer than you'd like.

She slowly looks up, her eyes fixed on you with that unique calm that has always reassured you, as if you could tell her anything and she wouldn't judge you.

"Yes, honey," she answers, her voice soft but curious. "What's wrong?"

You walk over to the couch and sit next to her, unable to look her in the eyes right away. The silence between you grows thicker, heavier. You cross your arms around your legs, seeking some comfort in the gesture.

"There's something I want to tell you," you murmur. You don't know if you should say it all at once, or beat around the bush, but you know there's no time left. You have to.

Helena's gaze doesn't change. He knows something important is about to happen, but he doesn't say anything. In his silence, you find a refuge. You take a deep breath before speaking again, this time looking into his eyes.