"So Izzy, your birthdays tomorrow. How are we celebrating?" I ask as we lounge in the living room, Alec, Jace and Max talking about something to do with characters of a show I've never seen. Izzy smiles, twirling a piece of her dark hair around a perfectly manicured fingertip.

"I'm not sure. We'll probably be subjected to a dinner out with the entire family. I'm assuming my parents have already figured that out," she pauses with a dramatic eye roll and sighs. "But afterwards, I want to go out I think." I grin and nod, glancing over at the boys.

"Right, you'll be legal," I comment, raising my eyebrows and smirking. Izzy laughs, nodding and looking extremely relieved. It's then that I realize it; Alec isn't the only one who struggles with who his parents are. Alec isn't the only one who has been oppressed and shamed for who they are.

"It's only one dinner, right? Only a few days with them before we all get back to our normal lives." I smile reassuringly at Izzy.

"You're right. We can do this." She replies, reaching over and grasping my hand in her own. It's at that moment that Maryse and Robert walk through the front door. Everyone tenses, even little Max at only 14 years old, squares his shoulders and looks at his parents as they walk into the room, pushing his glasses back on his face. 

"You both made it," Maryse comments, but I don't miss the implications behind her words as if she was hoping we'd be too busy to come. 

"Yeah, we did," Alec replies, standing and walking toward his parents, briefly kissing Maryse on the cheek before embracing Robert. 

"Lovely," Maryse murmurs before excusing herself and striding into the kitchen, her high heels loud as gunshots in the quiet living room. 

"What a ray of sunshine," Jace comments, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch. Robert lifts the corner of his mouth briefly and shrugs as if to say 'what can you do?' before he sits next to Jace and relaxes. The room shifts back into a pleasant atmosphere once we realize Maryse isn't planning on coming back anytime soon, probably still upset by the fact that Alexander and I came home. I'm not surprised. 

"Babe?" Alec asks, looking up at me. Humming in response, I walk over, carefully combing my hand through his hair, watching as a smile graces his perfect features. "Can you grab me some water?" 

"Yeah, of course, love." Leaning down, I brush my lips over his temple before heading into the kitchen. 

Maryse has her back to me, standing at the sink and looking outside over the backyard. The pool glistens in the warm May sunlight, leaves catching the beams as they flicker in the breeze. 

Her knuckles are white, gripping the edge of the marble countertop. A sharp contrast to the serene view outside.

"Maryse?" I ask cautiously, unsure what to say or do. She's never liked me, this I knew from the very first time I met her, in this same house, back when Alec and I were so new to each other, to everything. 

"Magnus," she replies curtly, turning to look at me. The hard set of her jaw and the deepness of her eyes catches me off guard. 

"Is everything alright?" I almost don't want to ask. I don't really know if I can handle the answer or the explanation. I'm unsure if I want to. She sighs, running her long fingers through the length of her high ponytail. 

"I don't know the answer to that anymore." She murmurs, so softly I wonder if I was meant to hear it. "Is Alexander happy?" The question startles me. Part of me feels bad for being surprised- she is his mother, why wouldn't she be concerned with his happiness? But another part of me remembers who Maryse is, what she says and does for her own self-gain. And I can only find so much sympathy for her in that sense. No one has ever called Maryse Lightwood a kind person- she's never given anyone a reason to. 

"I believe he is," I finally answer, because, I think I know my partner. At least, enough to hopefully know that he's happy. "He's doing what he loves. He's living where he wants to be, living the life he made. I think he is happy." She's quiet for a moment, contemplative or thoughtful, I can't tell. Leveling her gaze with mine, the loving, concerned mother is all but gone. 

"With you?" She adds, crossing her arms. It's less a question and more of an insult. It's a swift, clear slap that I can feel echo within me, right to my bones. 

"Yes, with me." I retort, crossing my own arms and holding my ground. I can't deny that her words hurt, but the last thing I want to do is let her know how much they affect me. 

"How do you know that?" She demands, dropping her arms in exasperation and turning on a pointed heel until her back is to me. "How can you be so sure that you're the right thing for him? He could be married by now, to some lovely girl, he could have children, Magnus. He could be living so much simpler, do you understand that?" Turning back to look at me, she has fire in her eyes and running through her veins. But my own fire is burning inside, and I want to yell at her for what she's saying. I want to tell her why she's so wrong, I want to stoop so low that I'm on her very level. 

"I know because I love him," I nearly whisper, biting back the rush of anger and vile emotions pulsing through me. She may be disgusted by who I am, but she'll never hate me more than I hate her in this very moment. "I know because he loves me, too. And sure, he could get married to some woman and have babies. He could have a white picket fence, and you could have grandchildren. And I could leave. But he wouldn't be happy, Maryse. Alexander doesn't want to live the life you want him to. That's not who he is."

"You don't know a damn thing about my son." Maryse snaps, hands making tight fists at her sides. 

"That's where you're wrong. You're the one who doesn't know a damn thing." Turning around, I try to leave the anger on the marble kitchen floor. With everything in me, I try to dispel it, fight it away, but it claws it's way into my heart, bitterness leaking into everything that once felt right. I return to the living room, but my chest is so tight I can barely breathe. 

Looking up, he can tell something is wrong in a second. Alexander stands, waking over to me and clasping my hands in his own, but I can hardly look at him. 

"Mags, what's wrong?" He asks, worry colouring his tone, voice hushed as to not be heard by the rest of his family. 

I find the words won't come. I can't tell him. 

"Nothing," I whisper back, squeezing his hands and pushing a smile that feels like a mistake. "I just need some air. I'll be back," I tell him, kissing his cheek and letting him go. I can tell he wants to argue, maybe offer to come with me, but I smile again and shake my head before he can ask. "Right back." I remind him before turning and walking out the front door. 

The spring air is damp and hot, suffocating me further as I force myself to move away from the house. Reaching up, I tangle my hands in my hair, not caring that I'm making a mess of myself. I feel like one. 

Words like hers, the tone, the actions, everything she is makes me feel cheap. Wrong. Mistaken. I've never been ashamed of who I am, but she's one of the few people who can make me question it. Her and my father both. They make me wonder if I'm worth anything at all. 

I don't know where my legs are taking me, but I keep forcing myself to walk until I can't move anymore. Sitting down on the curb, I look down at my shoes, digging my heels into the pavement as hard as I can just to feel something. 

"Magnus?" A vaguely familiar voice calls. Startled, I stand up, turning. Walking toward me is a woman with cornsilk blonde hair tied up, sunglasses sitting on top of her head. Her white t-shirt reflects the persistent sunlight and her blue jean shorts are fraying. 

"Lydia," I respond, smiling softly at her. She's aged nicely, no longer looking like a spoiled teenager. I suppose one could say the same about me. We were all so different back then. 

"How've you been?" She asks, pulling me into an unexpected hug. It's safe to say the two of us didn't get along so well back in the day. Both of us were pining for the same boy, and I walked away with his heart. 

"I've been well. How about you? I didn't know you were still living in New York City."

"I come and go. I travel a lot, doing photography," she replies softly, running a hand over her hair. I smile and nod, it's something fitting for her. Something that lets her be free, which is something Lydia never did as a teenager. She was always so stuck in her ways, always so stubborn and stale. "What are you doing back here?" 

"Alec and I came home for Isabelle's birthday," I explain, suddenly reminded of what just happened with Maryse. 

"Do you have time to grab a cup of coffee?" She asks, offering me a welcoming smile that is nearly impossible to turn down. Resolving to let myself have a moment, I nod. "Great, let's go." Following her, I take my phone out, sending Alec a text to let him know where I'm going and hoping he isn't too concerned. 

We take a seat at a cute table near the window of the small shop, glad we managed to hit it at a time that isn't crazy busy. 

"So you and Alec moved to Brooklyn after high school, right?" Lydia asks, propping her chin up in her hand and twirling the straw of her iced tea idly. 

"Yeah, we got a nice place with a great view. But it's rare we get to relax at home," I confess, smiling and taking a long sip of my own drink. 

"I heard that Alec is doing really well with his music. I bet that keeps the two of you busy." She sympathizes. 

"With that and my interior design business, it makes it hard for sure," I don't know why I'm opening up to her, the one person I never thought would be here like this, but growing up changes things, changes people. 

"Where is Alec? It's strange to see you without him attached to you," smirking, she laughs lightly at her own joke, and I laugh along. 

"He's visiting with his family."

"And you're not?" The question hits me and I take a deep breath, trying to fight back the emotions. But I can't, or maybe I just don't want to, and before I can stop myself, I've told Lydia everything about Maryse Lightwood. 

"You're kidding," she breathes, reaching out and squeezing my hand with her own small one, brow creasing in disbelief. Sighing, I shake my head, looking down at the wooden table. 

"I wish I was. The woman absolutely despises me." 

"Even if you make Alec happy?" She asks, letting my hand go and gazing at me expectantly. 

"Especially because I make Alec happy." 

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I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. I know it's slow to pick up, but the best is yet to come! Stick with me, I promise you won't regret it!

Please reach out with messages, votes, or comments! I love to hear what you think, and I'd love to chat and bounce ideas with you guys!

Thanks for reading, 

Sierra