It was late when you stumbled through the door, your steps unsteady, the faint smell of alcohol and something stronger lingering on your clothes. The house was dark, but the faint light from the kitchen flickered on.

Amelia was sitting at the kitchen table, her arms crossed, waiting for you. Her eyes narrowed when you walked in.

“Where the hell have you been?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with anger.

You didn’t answer, your gaze flickering away from her. Amelia stood up, her voice sharp. “Don’t you dare walk past me without saying a word.”

You froze, feeling the weight of your mother’s disappointment. Amelia was sober now, working so hard to stay clean for you, and yet here you were, pushing boundaries and making mistakes.

“You’ve been doing it again, haven’t you?” Amelia’s voice trembled, a mix of frustration and hurt. “You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Amelia held up a hand, cutting you off. “I fought so hard to get better. To be the mother you need. And this? This is how you repay me?”

You didn’t have an answer. Amelia’s eyes were filled with pain, but there was also something stronger, a fierce, protective anger that you knew they couldn’t escape from.

“I don’t want you to end up like I did,” Amelia continued, her voice breaking. “I won’t let you destroy yourself. I won’t.”