💘( Mending the King! )✨

THREE

[ SO ]

( 🤴🔨👸💋💑🏍 )

" What? I'm a lawyer not a saint. "

~ KIMCHEE to ALU ORTIZ 

☆《》¤

ALU'S OUTFIT 

IT HAD BEEN JUST OVER A MONTH SINCE ALU ARRIVED IN CHARMING, and while she'd initially stayed at Juice's apartment, it quickly became clear that the one-bedroom space wasn't ideal for long-term living. So, when the opportunity arose, she decided it was time to find a new place. Fortunately, her best friend from high school, Kimchee, lived just a short drive away in Lodi. True to his nature, Kimchee didn't hesitate for a second—offering her a spare room in his apartment without question.

Alu didn't think twice before accepting, especially since the location was perfect—just a stone's throw from her mother's house, meaning she'd be closer to her son, whom she missed terribly.

The sun dipped low, casting an amber glow over the street as Alu stood at the front door, a mix of anticipation and anxiety gnawing at her insides. She hadn't been back here in over a year, and every creak of the porch under her feet reminded her why. She took a deep breath, summoning the courage she wasn't sure she possessed, and knocked.

It didn't take long for the door to open, revealing her mother. The older woman's sharp eyes swept over her with a mix of surprise and disdain.

"Ana Lucia," Adela said, the name dropping coldly from her lips. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Alu swallowed hard, "Hi, Ma. I know it's been a while, but...I hoped maybe I could see Moss."

Adela's expression hardened, the lines on her face deepening as if etched by years of disappointment, "Carlos..." she emphasised. "...is in the middle of a tutoring session right now," she said, her voice clipped. "If you want to see him, we'll need to arrange a visit for another time."

The rejection hit harder than Alu had prepared for. She shifted her weight, forcing herself to hold her mother's gaze, "I won't take up much time. I just want to say hi, even if it's just for a minute. Please, Mama." 

Adela's lips tightened into a thin line, the silence stretching between them like a chasm, "You can't just show up here, Ana. Not after a year of silence," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't have you disrupting his routine. Or his life." 

The sting of her mother's words cut deep, and Alu felt her resolve waver. She glanced past the older woman, hoping for a glimpse of her son, but the hallway remained empty. The faint sound of a child's laughter floated down from somewhere deeper in the house, and her heart ached.

"I'm not here to disrupt anything," Alu said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just needed to see him. To know he's okay."

Adela's eyes softened, if only for a moment, before the walls went up again, "He's more than okay. He's thriving, without the chaos you bring. So, if you truly care about him, you'll respect that."

Alu's shoulders slumped, defeat sinking into her bones. She nodded stiffly, unable to muster the strength to argue, "Alright. Just...tell him I said hi, and that I love him," she whispered.

Adela didn't respond, just watched her with that same unreadable expression as Alu turned and walked back down the porch steps. The sound of the door closing behind her felt like a final, crushing blow.

As she reached the end of the driveway, she paused, looking back at the house he son calls home. The laughter from inside had quieted, replaced by the echo of her own footsteps as she walked away.

Six Years Earlier

The rain poured relentlessly from a darkened sky, turning the street into a slick, murky mess. Alu's soaked boots slapped against the pavement as she staggered up the steps. Her breath came in shallow gasps, the weight of the past two years pushing down on her chest. She was tired—so tired—of running, of hiding, of pretending everything was fine. The storm mirrored the turmoil inside her, but it was the sense of desperation that drove her here, to this very doorstep, in the dead of night.

She hesitated before knocking, the sting of betrayal sharp in her chest. It wasn't that she'd wanted to leave; it was that she had no choice. His anger, his cruelty, his possessive nature—suffocated her. But now...now she had a baby inside of her. The same baby she was sure would never know what real, unconditional love was if she stayed. 

The door swung open, and there stood her mother, Adela, in nothing more than a robe, her tired eyes widening in disbelief. The sight of Alu, drenched from the storm, standing on her porch—barely recognisable—brought a rush of emotions that Adela could barely process. Shock, confusion, anger, and something else too, something softer, though buried deep beneath the layers of years apart.

"Ana Lucia," Adela's voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Alu's lips trembled as she stared at her mother, the words stuck in her throat. She tried to speak, but all she could do was choke back the sobs. Her heart hammered in her chest, the weight of everything she had endured crashing down on her like a wave. She stepped forward, hands shaking as she clutched at her mother's robe.

"Mama...I—I need your help. Please..." Alu whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

Adela stood frozen, her gaze flickering down to the sudden, unmistakable bulge of her daughter's stomach. The shock hit her like a punch to the gut. There was no mistaking it—she was pregnant.

She looked back at her daughter's tear-streaked face, her eyes searching for an explanation, for something that made sense. The years of silence between them, the unanswered phone calls, the months of wondering where Alu had gone, the bitter realisation that her daughter had slipped through her fingers like sand—all of it came flooding back in that one instant.

"Pregnant?" Adela finally managed to say, her voice edged with disbelief. She stepped back instinctively, almost as though she feared the answer. "You're...pregnant?"

Alu nodded frantically, wiping at her face with the back of her sleeve, "Please, Mama, I...I don't know what to do. I...I don't have anyone else. I'm so scared."

Adela's gaze softened for just a moment, the cold armour she had built around herself cracking, but it didn't last long. Her shock and worry soon turned into a flare of anger. Her daughter had disappeared for two years, only to return now with a child on the way, and not a single word until now.

"Two years, Ana," Adela muttered, her voice trembling. "I haven't heard from you in two years."

Alu flinched at the sharpness in her mother's words, but the pain she felt from her rejection was nothing compared to the fear that twisted in her stomach, "I'm sorry, but I didn't know where else to go, Ma. I didn't know what else to do. I need you...Please, I just...I can't do this alone."

Adela stood there for a long moment, her eyes softening once more as the gravity of the situation settled in. The rain pounded harder against the roof, as if the sky itself was waiting for her answer. 

Finally, Adela sighed and stepped back into the house, "Come inside," she said, her tone softer now, but still filled with the weight of the years of pain between them. "We'll figure this out."

And though Adela's heart was still heavy with disappointment and confusion, she knew one thing for certain: this wasn't just about the past anymore. There was a baby on the way, and this was her daughter, standing at her doorstep, pleading for help. For the first time in years, Alu wasn't running anymore.

The front door creaked open, and Alu stepped inside, hanging her bag on the coat rack with a sigh that seemed to drain the room of any remaining hope she carried. The warm scent of spices and something unfamiliar wafted through the air as she made her way into the kitchen.

Kimchee stood at the stove, stirring a bubbling pot with focused intent. He looked over his shoulder, a slight smile pulling at his lips, "How'd it go?"

"She wouldn't even let me inside," Alu muttered, sinking onto the stool at the breakfast bar. Her tone was flat, edged with a resigned bitterness.

Kimchee's brow furrowed as he turned back to the stew, giving it a thoughtful stir, "So, the Sunday dress didn't work, huh?"

"Not even a little bit." Alu propped her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her palms. "Turns out, a pretty dress doesn't cover up the fact that I'm a disappointment."

"Hey," Kimchee said sharply, his tone taking on a fatherly edge as he turned to face her. "We talked about this. No negativity in this house."

Alu rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, "Oh, bite me."

Kimchee shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he tasted the stew with the wooden spoon. He caught Alu's scrunched-up expression as the smell hit her.

"What is that stuff? It stinks," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Kimchi stew. My mum brought it over," he said, lifting a spoonful toward her. "You want some?"

Alu leaned back, holding up her hands in mock surrender, "Nah, I'm good. Keep that stuff away from me."

"Alright, more for me," he said, unfazed as he took another taste, savoring the familiar flavour. 

Alu watched him, her eyes narrowing playfully, "Gosh, no wonder your breath always stinks."

Kimchee placed a hand over his heart with an exaggerated gasp, "You're bitchy today. You need to take a chill pill or, even better..." He stepped over to the drawer, rummaging through until he pulled out a small ziplock bag holding a neatly rolled joint. He held it up with a grin. "...this."

Alu's eyes widened, "Is that a...?"

"Perfectly rolled joint?" Kimchee interrupted, raising an eyebrow and examining it with pride. "Yes, I believe it is."

"Jericho Kim!" she scolded, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

"What?" He shrugged, still smirking. "I'm a lawyer, not a saint." He wiggled the bag in front of her, eyebrows raised suggestively.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the tension from the day evaporated as they shared a mischievous grin, the kitchen filling with laughter that momentarily dulled the sting of rejection.

***

Alu and Kimchee sprawled across the couch, their limbs tangled and popcorn scattered over the cushions like confetti. The TV flashed scenes from an old comedy that neither of them was really paying attention to, but it didn't matter; they were laughing uncontrollably at the smallest things, eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

"Did you see that?" Kimchee wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes as Alu giggled at absolutely nothing.

"Oh, my God, I can't breathe!" Alu gasped, clutching her stomach as another fit of laughter erupted from her.

Suddenly, the sound of a knock at the door broke through their bubble. Alu sat up too quickly, her head spinning as she exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Kimchee.

"Expecting anyone?" he asked, voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone.

"No," she whispered, scrambling to sweep the popcorn onto the floor with a frantic wave of her hand. "I'll get it," she said, letting out a groan of annoyance as she pushed herself off the couch and jumped over the back of the couch. Jogging over to the door, she swung it open, revealing her mother standing there, that same stern look on her face that Alu was used to. 

"Ma?" Alu furrowed her brow, tilting her head to the side, completely confused by the face that her mother was standing before her right now. 

"I called Juan, he told me you were living here." Her tone was low and steady as she turned to Kimchee. "How are you, Jericho?" she asked, her tone changing from authoritative to a hint of affection. 

"Fine." He offered the woman a tight smile as he tried to act nonchalant, while Alu tried to keep herself steady—the room was spinning. "How you, Adela?"

"Busy," she said, the woman's stern look return when she turned back to address her daughter. 

"What are you doing here?" Alu asked, sounding a little bitter after their conversation earlier. 

"I felt a little bad for how our earlier meeting went down. Carlos' tutoring session finished early, so we had some spare time before dinner." 

"Okay...?" 

"Carlos, honey," Adela called out to someone down the hall. "Come say hello to your sister." 

Carlos then appears in the doorway next to the older woman, "Alu!" he shouted with a delighted grin, running past Adela and into Alu's arms. For a moment, the world slowed as Alu hugged him tightly, burying her face in his soft hair. Hearing him use her name always made her chest ache, but today it stung even more.

Suddenly, Adela's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene: the scattered popcorn, the flushed faces, and the faint scent of marijuana clinging to the air. Her lips curved into a frown. "Carlos, go wait in the car," she said firmly.

Carlos blinked, looking back at the woman he believed to be his mother confused, "But we just got here—"

"Now, Carlos," Adela snapped, her tone brooking no argument. 

He flinched and nodded, casting one last glance at Alu, before walking out with slumped shoulders.

The door clicked shut behind him, and an oppressive silence filled the room.

"What the hell, Ana Lucia?!" Adela spat, eyes blazing. "I come here, thinking maybe—maybe—you deserve a chance to see him. And this is what I find? You're high, laughing like an idiot, proving everything I already knew."

Alu stormed over to her mother, stumbling slightly, before regaining her balance, "I'm allowed to unwind, Ma. I'm human!"

"Unwind?!" Adela's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You have no idea what it means to be responsible, to think about someone other than yourself. That's why Carlos doesn't know the truth. And that's why he will never know the truth."

Alu's jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides, "I am his mother! You can try to rewrite history all you want, but it won't change it anything."

"You think you can just walk back into his life and play the part of a mother?!" Adela shot back, eyes glistening with fury and something deeper—hurt. "You gave up that right years ago, Ana Lucia. You left him, and now you have the nerve to act like you're entitled to him? You lost your chance, and I won't let you ruin his life like you ruined yours!" 

Alu's chest heaved as she stared at the woman who raised Carlos as her own, who had given him the stability she never could. The truth was a razor to her throat, threatening to cut deep as she struggled for control, "I might not have been there, but I never stopped loving him," she said, voice breaking. "I never stopped wanting to be better for him."

Adela's gaze softened for just a moment, before hardening once more, "Love is more than wanting. It's doing. And until you understand that, you will always be just his sister."

They stood in silence, the weight of Adela's words pressing down on them both. Finally, the petite woman turned, her footsteps echoing as she walked toward the door, "Get your act together," she said over her shoulder, before the door closed behind her with a finality that sent a shiver down Alu's spine.

Kimchee shifted uncomfortably on the couch, breaking the tension with a quiet sigh, "So...popcorn refill?"

Alu let out a bitter laugh, sinking back onto the couch and rubbing her face, "Yeah, Kimchee. Might as well."

***

Alu sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the photograph of Carlos she kept tucked away in her nightstand. Tears trailed down her face, hot and relentless, but she swiped at them with the back of her hand the moment she heard footsteps outside her door. The knock was soft, hesitant.

"Alu?" Kimchee's voice broke the silence, laced with concern. He pushed the door open just enough to peek in, his eyes searching her face. The second he saw the redness around her eyes and the way her shoulders hunched defensively, he knew. Without a word, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"I'm fine," Alu said, her voice thick and unconvincing as she turned her head away. "Really, Kimchee, I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I'm the president of the United States," Kimchee said lightly, moving to sit beside her on the bed. When she didn't protest, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Alu's walls crumbled, and she leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder as more tears spilled out.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," she admitted in a voice so small, it was almost a whisper. "Maybe she's right. Maybe I don't deserve him."

Kimchee pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his expression firm but kind, "Hey, don't say that. I've known you since high school, back when you were dancing around a pole just to make ends meet. You've come so far since then, Alu. You've earned the right to have your kid back, and I'm gonna help you." 

She wiped her cheeks with shaky fingers, eyes searching his face, "But what if I mess up again? What if I hurt him?"

"I know you and I know you wouldn't do anything to harm that boy," Kimchee said without hesitation. He took her hand in his, squeezing it for emphasis, "I'm here for you, Alu. I got your back, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll fight for him, okay? Whatever it takes."

A fresh wave of emotion hit Alu, but this time it wasn't just sorrow—it was hope, tentative and fragile. She nodded, a small smile breaking through the tears, "Thank you, Kimchee."

He smiled back, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes making a brief return, "You're my best friend, Alu. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

For the first time that day, she let out a genuine laugh, the sound warming the room and pushing the shadows back a little further.

***

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