𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙩, 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.
SECTION ONE: SACRIFICE—0002; DOUBT.

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Love, she found, demands sacrifice the very same way a flower calls for sunlight to bloom. It necessitates selflessness—the readiness to prioritize someone else's needs above your own, even on days where a handful of Hydromorphone pills seemed more enticing than another hour of breathing. The depth of motherly love resembles a dagger you must be willing to thrust into your own gut, ready to pierce through skin and spill out your very essence, all in the name of the person you hold dear—and for her son, Sally Jackson is prepared to make that sacrifice and more.

Sally hadn't been prepared for the pain of living with her heart beating outside of her chest.

She didn't know how to breathe when her heart, once sheltered in the refuge of her womb, now existed in the fragile body of her son. Every breath she took was filled with fear and worry, as if at any moment her heart would be ripped away from her—and he could, she knew. Her son could be taken away—Percy isn't hers, Poseidon cautioned her—but she is twenty-four, and she is learning. She is learning that the bond between mother and child is an eternal dance of love and worry, a delicate balance between letting go and holding on tightly.

Still, she is afraid that she won't be enough for her son.
Percy is a half-blood, a demigod. Half immortal, half divine.
Half Poseidon.

She is just Sally.

She is mundane in every essence of the word, and her son possesses powers and abilities that she could never understand or relate to. He will evolve into an unfathomable force, destined to exceed the mortal limitations that bound her; when he grows up, he will surpass her in ways she cannot comprehend. Sally is a high school dropout, married to the human equivalent of trash, unskilled, unemployed, and with no money to provide for herself, much less a child. And Percy is so much more than she could have ever imagined or hoped for—deserves so much more than what she can offer him. It hurt—simply, without metaphors or poetic language—to know that she cannot give him the life he deserves.

Weighed with unshed tears, Percy's eyes resembled shattered sea glass.

She lied; she knows she isn't enough for her son—won't ever be enough for a child like him.

Each morning, she awakens with the taste of salt on her lips and guilt gnawing at her from within.

She should've allowed Poseidon to take him.

"Please eat, Percy," she begged her toddler, but he refused, pushing away the meager meals she managed to scrape together. She is learning, and she is trying, but it isn't enough, no matter how much she sacrifices.

She watches other parents effortlessly provide for their children, and it only adds to her feelings of inadequacy because Yulissa is close to her age—just a bit older but with four children—and she is doing infinitely better with each one. They are always well fed, well dressed, and seem to have everything they need. Alvie is the politest child, always saying "please" and "thank you," and he never throws tantrums despite... Well, despite everything.

Yulissa is Sally's best friend, but she is aware that Yulissa has some issues.

Alvie is the politest child, always saying "please" and "thank you," and he never throws tantrums, but sometimes he'll get so choked up with emotions that he can't speak. He'll start shaking uncontrollably, and tears will pour down his face at times when he's supposed to be happy. Thiago and Ilaria looked so tired despite being so young—eyebags and dark circles, matching crankiness with their tired expressions no matter how much they napped, and Sally had thought Wilmarie was colic at first, but she soon realized that her constant crying came from Yulissa's careless mistakes, like a too-warm bottle or a rough diaper change or being left unattended for a bit too long when Alvie went to school—but Yulissa is trying. Sally is trying, and Yulissa is trying, and they are learning.

Motherhood isn't something anyone can prepare for. That's the reason why it is omitted from all the tales of Greek heroes, she supposes. Nobody cared about Rhea after she gave birth to Zeus, or about Leto after Apollo and Artemis. Nobody would have liked to read about Danaë nursing Perseus or about Alcmene changing diapers for Heracles; less would care that Sally Jackson spent three hours attempting to feed Percy blueberries before he became the great hero he was destined to be.

Truthfully, Sally is tired. She wanted to pull out the dagger that's been sticking out of her side since that night at Montauk. She wished one thing would come easily in her life, free from the persistent struggle and uncertainty. She is tired, and Percy hated blueberries despite them costing $8.64, and Sally is so tired of it—of being poor, of being alone with a screaming child—of being hit by a man so revolving it makes her question her own worth—of being a failure again and again and again—tired of everything—that she could only think of her Uncle Rich's slackened face whenever he dry swallowed his painkillers, and how she still kept unused bottles underneath her bathroom sink.

But Yulissa walked through the front door with the widest grin on her face. "

Amiga, amiga, amiga!" The woman giggled excitedly; the clanking of her heels echoed through the apartment as she went to hug her, and she looked so stunning in her bell-bottom jeans and white tank top that Sally could only smile, despite the shame of leaving the door unlocked in her exhaustion and the embarrassment of still being in stained pajamas at noon. "You are not going to believe what Ignacio from 2C just told me!"

The woman sat on her couch, speaking uninterrupted, aside from the pause to kick away one of Gabe's used underwear with a shout, "Maldito hombres!" She told Sally of unimportant things—neighborhood gossip, like Ignacio seeing Camila cheating on Antonio with a woman from the complex across the street, or that Manuel from downstairs had lost his job and was struggling to make ends meet. Yulissa's eyes widened as she recounted the details, her voice a blend of shock and excitement, her long acrylic nails clicking with the movement of her hands. Sally didn't care about Camila, or even know Valentina and Juanito the way Yulissa did, but it felt grounding to hear that the world went on outside of her apartment, even if she remained floating aimlessly like a corpse in the open sea.

"I don't believe you," Sally said clumsily, unused to being a girl. Yulissa giggled all kindheartedly, pretending she didn't notice. She simply shook her head with a hum, and the gems on her nails glittered as brightly as her smile. "Trust me, mami, these people out here are crazy! That's why us reinas de belleza got to stick together."

Sally smiled timidly at the carpeted floor, unsure of how to even breathe anymore. Her own nails were bitten to bloodied stubs, and the pain of chewed-out cuticles no longer registered. Exhaustion stole all of her words, and any fantasies of being soft-handed and beautiful like Yulissa. The $8.64 blueberries stole all of her money, too, even if Percy refused to eat them. "And what does that mean?" Sally asked, wishing, just for a second, that she could trade places with Yulissa. To be beautiful just for a moment. To have some sort of passion or purpose that didn't involve scraping by day after day.

Percy stared at her with wide, wide eyes.
He looked too much like Poseidon to be comforting.

Sally jolted when Yulissa rose from the couch with a dramatic groan, her long, graceful limbs stretching out as she adjusted her jeans with a subtle shake of her hips. "It means," Yulissa told her, leaning forward like she was about to share a secret, "that we are too beautiful for all of New York City, mami. Men this, men that—Ha! We got our babies; that's all we need from them." She snatched the bowl of blueberries from Sally's hand with a victorious sound before casually shooing her away. "Go, go," the woman ordered her. "Shower, mami, you lookin' a little icky."

Sally tried to protest, her voice trailing off as Yulissa shot her a playful glare.

"No buts, mami," Yulissa interrupted with a cheeky grin. "You know I'm always looking out for you. Now go freshen up and get ready to conquer the world with those beautiful hips of yours." While speaking, she mashed the fruit with a toddler-safe fork until it transformed into a thick, juicy mess. Yulissa swayed as if she could hear a song playing in her head, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Percy eyed the puree skeptically, unsure, until Yulissa teased the toddler by smearing a small dollop on his nose. Percy's eyes widened with surprise and delight as he felt the cool, sticky sensation on his skin. He giggled uncontrollably, his tiny hands reaching up to wipe the puree off his face. When Yulissa tried offering him another spoonful, Percy eagerly opened his mouth, ready to eat.

Sally swallowed dryly. "But the CDC said blueberries are a choking hazard for children until they are five years old, so they recommend practicing—"

"Ay, mami!" Yulissa breathed out with exasperation. She stared at Sally with the sternness of an older sister, her brown eyes pointed, and her perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed. "Sally, if he likes his blueberries like this, why not let him enjoy them? Mushed, whole, or en vinagre, if he eats it, what is the harm?"

Sally bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. She understood Yulissa—they were just fruit, $8.64, and a bit bitter—but it felt so immense. It wasn't about the blueberries. It was about the feeling of inadequacy as a mother grew like a shadow in Sally's heart. It was about Poseidon telling her that their child was meant for more than just her arms. It was about preparing Percy for a life of violence, something she would've never, ever chosen for him if Poseidon had informed her before getting her pregnant. Because a fruit won't kill him, but a sword might—and it was about Yulissa, who looked beautiful with her salon-blown hair, and her sculpted body, and her expensive perfume despite having four children, and she is just Sally. Ugly Sally, who still had a protruding stomach despite her son turning two. Ugly Sally, with frizzy hair, no nails, and no perfume. Ugly Sally, who failed with just one child.

Ugly Sally, who doomed her parents, and her uncle, and now her son.

She didn't mean to start crying. But it started as a pain in her chest, a tightening grip that made it hard to breathe. Hopelessness engulfed her; she had never felt good enough for herself, let alone a god or her own child—and when she was five years old, she had learned a trick to stare at a light to prevent tears from pooling in her eyes, but it didn't always work. Today, at twenty-three, her vision blurred as tears welled up. She tried to wipe them away, but Percy cooed at the blueberries, and Yulissa stared at her with enough pity to wrench a choked sob from her throat.

She tried to cover her mouth as her chest heaved. "I don't know what I'm doing," Sally let out through a strangled gasp, ashamed as her face crumpled. She cried—and Yulissa set down the plate like she was dealing with one of Ilaria's tantrums, and for a moment, Sally thought she was about to get slapped, or kicked, or worse—but she pulled Sally into a tight embrace, one so tight that Yulissa's nails dug into the fat of her back as she told her, "You don't need to, Sally. You're not alone. I won't leave you alone."

"I don't deserve it," she refused.

Yulissa laughed; with care, she brushed aside the strands of Sally's hair that refused to stay in place. "Por el amor de Dios, mami. Deserve has nothing to do with it," Yulissa grinned at her, attempting to make her smile, but a part of Sally wanted to die so badly that she doubted she would ever be happy again.

"You're being bratty," Yulissa teased her, pinching her cheek. She tried to move her hand away, but Yulissa held it firmly, the pad of her thump pressing gently against Sally's skin. "I'm a bad mother," Sally told her with a tremor in her voice. "I spent three hours trying to make him eat the damned blueberries, and you did it in less than ten minutes—"

"You are stubborn," Yulissa interrupted. "Just like him. That does not make you a bad mother, Sally."

"He deserves better," Sally said with desperation clawing at her chest, because Yulissa wasn't understanding her out of her misplaced kindness—and the woman stood up, letting go of her, and for a moment Sally felt good, because she had been right—everyone eventually left her, and her satisfaction stung far more than any physical pain ever could. Her eyes welled up with tears—but Yulissa had just reached to pick up Percy, dropping his tiny body in Sally's arms.

Her son stared at her with innocent eyes, oblivious to the turmoil within his mother. In him, she only saw Poseidon—she would only ever see Poseidon.

"Okay," Yulissa said. "Then apologize to him."

A strangled laugh ripped from her throat. "What?" Sally croaked, her voice barely audible through the lump in her throat. "What do you mean, apologize to him?"

"If you think you're a bad mother," the woman said, undoing the straps of her high heels and kicking them off as she sat on the floor beside her. "Then apologize to him. Apologize for any mistakes you think you've made, for not being perfect," Yulissa explained gently. "If you think you could've done better, then don't wait for him to grow up. Say it now, say it when he is five, and say it when he is eight, and fifteen, and thirty years old. Tell him, Percy, I'm sorry. Tell him, I tried with what we had. I tried my best, and I loved you for every single second of it, but I felt guilt, too, because I knew deep down that I could have done more. Explain to him that sometimes, life throws us challenges that are beyond our control." Yulissa's voice failed on her, and it waivered as tears welled up in her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, and continued with a laugh, "But despite it all, I hope you know that my love for you is forever. And if there's one thing I want you to remember, it's that I will always be here for you, no matter what."

Sally pressed her teeth into the meat of her lip until she tasted blood, and Yulissa always tries to reprimand her for doing that, but in that moment, her friend simply stared at her and her son as if they were the only two people in the world. "Go on," she told her, leaning her head on her shoulder. "You've got this."

Unsure, Sally hoisted Percy up before her, eliciting giggles from the two-year-old as his feet kicked and his tiny hands reached for her face. Amidst the tears streaming down her cheeks, she managed the strength to draw in a deep breath, releasing a laugh that mingled with her emotions.

"I'm sorry, Percy." She told her son. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not a god. I'm sorry just a woman. I'm sorry I'm not enough to protect you. I'm sorry I bought you bitter blueberries, and that you won't have a yard to play in when you grow up. I'm... sorry that I am your mom, but I love you."

And she is. She will always be sorry, because Percy doesn't deserve to be a hero because his mom has gone and fallen in love with a god, but it is the life that the Fates weaved for him, and there is no escaping it. And maybe to Yulissa, it just seemed like a day gone bitter, like blueberries rotting in the back of the fridge, and her friend might never know the truth of how badly Sally had cursed her son, but she could pretend, for a minute, that this was all she had to be sorry for.

She couldn't do anything else. She will continue to apologize. Now and forever, if necessary. She will apologize to her son until the name Gabriel doesn't revolt her anymore, and the thought of Poseidon no longer brings tears to her eyes. She will apologize until she is enough for Percy. Until she can finish her GED, go to college, and make something of herself for the sake of her son—because that's what Percy deserves. She will do it for him.

Beside her, Yulissa bumped shoulders with her, like they were just two little girls; she grinned at her, and Sally believed her. She laughed, wiping her cheeks, and admitted. "You are right—I think—I think I need a shower. I feel so icky."

Yulissa nodded with a giggle; to Sally, it sounded like salvation. "I'll help you detangle your hair afterwards," Yulissa offered. Sally grinned. "I would appreciate that. Thank you,"

𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙘𝙩, 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.

With a swipe of her thumb, Sally wiped off the foam that lingered in the corner of her son's mouth.

Percy tried to turn his head away, a scowl etching onto his reddening cheeks as he muttered, "Mom, you're embarrassing me!" Sally laughed lightly and brushed down Percy's hair. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I just want to make sure you look presentable."

Her son rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "It's okay," he told her, pressing kiss to her forehead as he stood up to order his third cup of iced coffee since arriving.

Beside her, Paul shook his head. "He's so brave," her husband commented with a proud smile. "If I were in his place, I'd be a nervous wreck. He must've gotten it from you," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Sally blushed and looked down at their intertwined fingers.

"I guess he did," she replied softly.

Sally watched him walk for a moment, smiling at the way the barista stuttered at the sight of Percy's sea-green eyes, and the heads that turned when her son spoke, his voice confident and smooth. Pride is not the word she was looking for to describe the overwhelming emotion that swelled within her. It was more like awe, as she marveled at the young man her son had become, and the bright future that lay ahead of him.

And as the café door swung open, Sally's attention captured by Wilmarie, who carried two bouquets of flowers and concealed a subtle bump beneath her sundress—just as mature as Percy, just as beautiful as her mother with her frizzy curls and a radiant smile. Sally knew it was the truth. She knew that the future ahead for her son would outshine even her most fervent prayers—that all of the fairytale endings paled in comparison to the way Percy laughed as Wilmarie handed him the flowers; dimmed in contrast to the grin on Wilmarie's face as her son took out a rumpled rose from his pocket and presented it to her with adoration.

She heard the familiar clicking of heels, then, a specific sound she hasn't heard in so long but forever searched for whenever she found herself in a crowded place. Paul tightened his grip on her hand, a silent reassurance as Sally turned her head in the direction of the sound.

Her heart skipped a beat—and Yulissa stood behind her daughter, looking the same as she did all of those years ago, the closest woman to God that Sally had ever seen. She still preferred bell-bottom jeans and wrinkles had etched themselves onto her face, but her eyes still sparkled with the same music that Sally remembered.

When Yulissa noticed her, she grinned, her familiar bounce intact, as if nothing had changed. Relief lifted her heart; there was no resentment, no hatred, no anger. 

Yulissa grinned, and called out to her, "Amiga! It's been too long, how have you been?"

Happily ever after had never been so vivid in Sally's mind until that moment.

She returned the smile, hopeful. Hopeful, so hopeful it burned.

Then Yulissa stepped forward, and a figure from her nightmares emerged from behind her, tall and ruggedly handsome, his green-colored eyes as piercing as the day Sally had first encountered him.

 A shiver crawled down her spine as the man pulled Yulissa closer to his side with an arm around her waist, his hand grabbing the woman possessively. Those hands—the same hands that had slapped Yulissa until he knocked out her teeth—that had wrapped around Yulissa's throat until she had lost consciousness—now matched with Yulissa's, golden rings glistening on their fingers.

Sally blinked desperately, hoping that this was all just a terrible trick. But as she opened her eyes, the scene remained unchanged; Yulissa's nails remained chipped, and the bastard still sat on the chair across from her, a sly smile dancing on his lips as he extended his hand for a shake.

"I'm Bernardo," the man introduced himself. "And your son got my daughter pregnant."

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

Ion got much to say beyond: DAMN IT WOMAN WHY!!

I named Wilmarie's first chapter Cycles because to her, she is repeating her mother's history of getting hurt and falling back in love with the man that hurt her. Of course, we know Percy is the greatest guy alive, but Wilmarie doesn't know it will work out. They make me so sad idk idk

Can't wait to write more Wilmarie and Yulissa angst, it's going to go RAW as hell and it hurt so bad for the mommy issues crowd, but it will be fine.

LOL<4 Okay, thank you for reading! Bye-bye!