AN: Hi everyone! Sooo… I rewrote this chapter to make it flow better and fit the tone I'm going for. If you've already read it before, please consider giving it another read-through! There are some new scenes and extra details I think you'll enjoy.

(tw: mentions of suicide and depression)

Mother and Daughter - Part 2

Elena watched her daughter curiously as they strolled through the park. The sun was shining, a soft breeze rustled the leaves, and the world felt alive with warmth. She let the school know Maria would be staying home for the rest of the week due to "family issues." She'd even called off work, despite her manager's clear annoyance over the phone, but right now, her daughter came first

She'd spent all of last evening and this morning agonizing over how to approach her daughter's seeming depression. Elena had steeled herself for a hard conversation, bracing for tears or denial. But instead… Maria had been as happy as could be.

Maria skipped ahead on the path, humming a tune, her bright smile lighting up her face. She was the picture of joy, and Elena didn't know what to make of it. Relieved? Perplexed? Should she even be more worried?

Maria's voice broke her out of her spiraling thoughts.

"Mom? I think we should move to New York."

Elena blinked, stopping in her tracks. "What?"

Maria turned back, still beaming, her hands clasped behind her back. "I think we should move to New York," she repeated, her tone casual, as if suggesting they try a new restaurant instead of uprooting their entire lives.

Elena stared, trying to process. "Mija… we can't just move to New York. Why would you even—where is this coming from?"

Maria shrugged, her smile unwavering. "I just think it'd be cool, you know? There's so much to do there! And it's way bigger than here. I mean, we've been here forever, and maybe we just need a change of scenery."

Elena frowned, her motherly instincts flaring. "Maria, this is sudden. Are you unhappy here? Is this about school?"

Maria shook her head quickly. "No, no! It's not that. I just…" She hesitated for a moment, her smile faltering slightly before brightening again. "I just feel like we'd do better there. You could find better opportunities, and I could… explore more. It's New York! People go there to chase their dreams, right?"

Elena crossed her arms, skepticism creeping in as she studied her daughter's face. Maria's enthusiasm was genuine—too genuine. And while Elena wanted to believe it was just the innocence of childhood optimism, something about the sudden shift in her daughter's mood felt… off.

"Mija, I know it's exciting to think about, but moving isn't that simple. I've got my nursing program, and we don't exactly have money lying around to just pack up and go."

Maria deflated slightly, but not for long. Her determined expression returned, and she clasped her hands together earnestly. "I can help you study! And then you can apply to a hospital in New York! There are tons of hospitals there—they'd love you!"

Elena softened at her daughter's earnestness, though her worry lingered. Maria's energy and optimism were a far cry from the withdrawn girl she'd seen just yesterday, but it still didn't sit right.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Maria's face. "Mija… are you sure everything's okay? This feels… out of the blue."

Maria hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting away before she met her mother's eyes again. "Yeah," she said softly, her voice more subdued now. "Everything's fine. I just… I think we'd be happier there."

Elena's heart clenched as she looked at her daughter's hopeful face. Maria's words hung in the air, and for a moment, Elena didn't know what to say.

We'd be happier there.

The phrase echoed in her mind, tugging at something deep inside her. Just yesterday, she'd promised herself she'd do whatever it took to help Maria, to make sure her daughter felt supported, safe, and loved. She'd been ready to face tears, anger, or silence—anything. But this? This sudden burst of energy and an impossible request?

Elena's thoughts spiraled. Could we really move to New York?

She imagined herself finishing her nursing program, applying to some bustling hospital in the city, and uprooting their entire lives. Maria's words weren't entirely wrong—New York had opportunities. More hospitals, more work. More… everything.

But then reality came crashing back. The cost of living, the logistics, the overwhelming uncertainty of such a move. And Maria's sudden cheerfulness—was it genuine, or was it a distraction from something deeper? Elena had no idea.

She sighed, forcing a small smile as she reached out to touch Maria's shoulder. "Mija, that's… a big change. I know you're excited, but moving to New York is a lot more complicated than it sounds."

Maria didn't reply immediately, her smile dimming just a little. But Elena noticed the spark of determination still lingering in her eyes.

"We'll talk about it," Elena added gently, her voice steady. "For now, let's just enjoy the day, okay?"

Maria nodded, her bright smile quickly returning as she skipped ahead, humming to herself before breaking into a joyful, sing-song voice. "Does whatever a spider can…" Her voice trailed off, replaced by soft humming, as she twirled a little on the path.

Elena watched her go, her chest tight with conflicting emotions. She wanted to give Maria everything she could, to keep her smiling like this. But something about the sudden shift still didn't sit right.

What's really going on, mija? Elena thought, glancing at her daughter, who seemed lost in her own little world. Her mind drifted back to the Stark announcement from the news last night. Could that have something to do with this sudden shift? Maria had seemed oddly fascinated, almost fixated, during the broadcast. Elena took a deep breath, the unease settling deeper in her chest. Whatever this was, she'd figure it out. She had to.

Maria's voice once again broke her train of thought, her tone casual and cheerful. "So, I was thinking… Queens."

Elena froze mid-step, her head snapping toward her daughter. "…Queens?!"

Operation: "Convince Mom to Uproot our lives so I can chase my isekai Superhero dream" is a go!

I'll be the perfect daughter! No… scratch that—even more than perfect! Perfect squared! No more gloomy, depressy Maria—now it's Best Daughter Ever Maria! Mom won't even know what hit her. She'll be so impressed, she'll have no choice but to agree to move to New York!

Step one: Dinner!

I glanced at the clock, then at the sad little pile of rice and beans on the counter. Mom was buried in her nursing studies, and I was determined to surprise her with dinner. How hard could rice be?

I poured the rice into the pot and added water—maybe a little too much water, but whatever. Oops. I cranked the heat up, thinking that would make it cook faster. Grabbing a spoon to stir, I managed to knock half the rice out of the pot and onto the counter. Double oops…

A few minutes in, steam started rising, but it wasn't the comforting kind. It smelled… weird. I peeked into the pot and realized the water was evaporating faster than the rice was cooking. I poured in more—probably way too much—and gave it a stir. Somehow, the bottom was already sticking. How does this even happen?

By the time the beans were warmed through - thank you, canned beans, for being impossible to mess up - the rice was… well, let's just say "unique." It was burnt on the bottom, soggy on the top, and somehow still undercooked in the middle… This is fine…

I plated the "food" with a proud smile, ignoring the suspicious smell wafting from the pot. "Mom! Dinner's ready!"

She came out of her room, looking tired but curious, and froze the second she stepped into the kitchen. Her eyes widened as she took in the mess: rice scattered across the counter, water splashed on the floor, and me standing there holding a plate of soggy, burnt rice with beans.

"Maria…" she said slowly, like she wasn't sure what to expect next.

"I made us dinner!" I said, beaming as I held out the plate to her. "See? I'm helping!"

She took the plate like it might explode, staring down at the disaster on it. For a second, I thought she might be mad, but then she sighed and shook her head, trying not to laugh.

That's a win in my book! I looked around behind me and grimaced at the disaster zone I'd turned the kitchen into. Maybe it'll count as a double win if I clean all this up… yeah…

Okay… time for the second part of this plan!

You got this, Maria. You can do this. I gave myself a little pep talk as I stood outside the classroom, steeling my nerves. You just have to… be social. With the other kids.

I stepped inside and immediately regretted it. My heart sank as I took in the chaos. Three kids were running around like they'd just guzzled energy drinks. One was chewing on a crayon like it was candy, and a group had gathered around another kid, cheering him on as he attempted to shove markers up his nose.

Mrs. Johnson stood at the front of the room, gripping her clipboard with the thousand-yard stare of someone who was one marker away from committing a war crime.

I scanned the room, desperate for any sign of sanity. In the corner, I spotted a kid sitting quietly, hunched over his desk. He seemed… decent? I approached him cautiously, holding my breath as I got closer.

And then I smelled him.

Oh god, nope. Abort mission! Abort!—

Before I could turn away, he looked up, his face lighting up with a wide grin. "HI, I'M DAVID!" he practically yelled, his enthusiasm radiating off him in waves.

Dammit.

Part 3 of this plan: Get the school counselor off my back.

I groaned as "Matilda"—Seriously, I have beef with her parents. Who names their kid Matilda?—pulled me out of the classroom and led me to her office. I stepped inside and froze. The walls were covered in cat posters. Not cute ones, though. These were the weird, judgmental ones with phrases like "Hang in there!" and "Purrfection takes time!" I sweatdropped. She's a lunatic.

Then I heard it. A low, guttural meow.

"Oh, don't mind Garfield," Matilda said cheerfully, motioning to a large orange tabby lounging on a file cabinet. "He's friendly!"

I turned my head slowly toward the cat. Garfield stared back at me with cold, soulless eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. His tail flicked, and his ears flattened slightly.

That thing does not look friendly. I'm going to die in this room.

I sat down cautiously, never taking my eyes off Garfield. He remained perched on the file cabinet like some furry overlord, staring me down.

Matilda cleared her throat, snapping my attention back to her. I immediately plastered on the brightest smile I could manage. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Just get this over with already, pleaseeeee.

"So, Maria… how are we feeling today?" Matilda asked, her tone overly gentle, like she was trying to coax a wild animal.

"I'm… great!" I exclaimed, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Garfield let out a soft, mocking meow, almost as if he were laughing at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Don't ruin this for me, you little shit.

Garfield narrowed his eyes right back, tail flicking in defiance.

Matilda glanced between us, her expression shifting to a curious hum, as if she could sense the silent war brewing in the room. "Well," she said slowly, "that's… good to hear." Matilda clasped her hands together and leaned forward slightly, her expression warm but professional. Can you tell me what's been making you feel that way?"

I forced my grin to stay in place. Stay calm, Maria. You've got this. "Oh, you know, just… life! Things are good. School's good. Mom's good. Everything's good!"

Her brow arched. "Everything's good?" she echoed, her tone light but with that I'm-not-buying-it edge. "No challenges, no worries?"

"Exactly!" I chirped, nodding a little too eagerly. "No challenges, no worries. Just like uh… Hakuna Matata!" I cringed. Really?

Matilda blinked, her lips twitching slightly, as if suppressing a laugh. "Hakuna Matata. I see. And how's school? Are you making friends?"

"Oh, totally! I mean, I've been talking to the other kids so much. David even said hi to me today! We're like… besties already!" I paused for dramatic effect, adding a little sparkle to my tone. I can smell him from here...

Matilda's head tilted ever so slightly, her eyes narrowing just enough to make me squirm. "Hmm. That's interesting. Mrs. Johnson mentioned you prefer to sit alone during recess."

Dammit, Mrs. Johnson, stop snitching! I laughed awkwardly. "Oh, well, you know, I like to… take breaks sometimes! Recharge. It's healthy."

"Healthy," Matilda repeated, her gaze cutting through my cheerful façade like a knife. "Maria, do you ever feel like you don't belong here?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone. "W-What? No! Of course not. I mean… why would you even ask that?"

Matilda leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her clipboard. "You're a bright, clever girl, Maria, but sometimes bright, clever kids feel like they have to keep everything inside. Like they have to pretend everything's perfect."

Her words hit me like a slap. I froze, caught completely off guard. What? No, that's not… I tried to brush it off, to laugh it away like I usually did, but the knot twisting in my stomach refused to loosen. For a moment, my mind scrambled for a reply, something—anything—but nothing came.

Garfield let out a loud, almost mocking meow, breaking the silence. My head snapped toward him, and I glared. I will skin you. But even as the thought crossed my mind, my focus wavered.

Was she right? Was I pretending? No, I'm fine. I'm fine. This is just her doing her job. That's all. She doesn't know anything. But her words lingered, poking at the edges of my thoughts, making me feel more exposed than I wanted to admit.

Matilda's eyes flicked to Garfield and then back to me. "You know, Maria," she said softly, "you don't have to have it all together. It's okay to be honest if things aren't 'great.'"

My smile faltered for just a moment before I caught myself. "I appreciate that, but really, I'm good! Pinky promise!" I held up my hand in mock sincerity, trying to push through the awkwardness.

Matilda didn't seem convinced, but she simply nodded and scribbled something on her clipboard. "Alright, Maria. Let's check in again soon."

Victory? Maybe. I stood up, still smiling, and made a quick exit before she could ask anything else. At least my name's not Matilda!

Elena watched her child from the couch, her lips pressed into a thin line. The sudden 180-degree turnaround in Maria's behavior unsettled her. The faux happiness—the forced smiles and boundless energy—unnerved her even more than the withdrawn, quiet depression that had consumed Maria just weeks ago.

Maria lay sprawled on the floor in front of the TV, completely absorbed in her sketchbook. She was drawing again—spiders, dozens of them, in all shapes and sizes. Elena glanced at the paper and frowned, but before she could say anything, the news came on. Maria's attention snapped to the screen, her eyes lighting up the moment Stark Industries was mentioned.

Elena sighed inwardly. She'd tried asking about it before, casually probing into Maria's newfound fascination. But Maria never gave her a straight answer. "He looks funny," she'd say with a dismissive shrug. And, well, considering the facial hair on the man, Elena couldn't exactly disagree. But she knew that wasn't the real reason.

Her curiosity had gotten the better of her more than once. Elena had done her own digging, staying up late to read everything she could find about Stark Industries and the man behind it. She'd uncovered the infamous Stark legacy of weapons, stories of the company's questionable past. But there was nothing that seemed like something Maria would even understand, much less be captivated by.

Elena had even tried cross-referencing spiders in her searches, hoping to find some connection, but that led nowhere. Maria remained a perplexing little enigma, a puzzle Elena couldn't quite put together.

She sighed again and turned back to her book, though the words swam uselessly on the page. It was getting harder to focus on her studies when all she could think about was her daughter. What is going on with her? And why won't she tell me?

"Mom?"

Elena was pulled out of her thoughts by her daughter's voice. Maria had climbed onto the couch beside her, her sketchbook abandoned for the moment.

"Whatcha reading?" Maria asked, her tone casual but her eyes curious.

"Oh, um… just studying, mija. Medical stuff. Pretty boring," Elena replied with a small smile, expecting Maria to shrug it off and return to her drawings.

Instead, Maria's eyes lit up with that same gleam she got whenever Tony Stark appeared on the news.

"Can I study it with you? Please?" Maria asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Elena blinked, taken aback. "You… want to study this with me? It's not exactly kid-friendly, mija. It's a lot of anatomy and technical jargon…"

"I can handle it!" Maria cut in, her grin wide and determined. "C'mon, Mom! It'll be fun! You could, like, teach me while we study!"

Elena opened her mouth to refuse, already forming the words in her mind, but she paused. Maybe this is an opportunity for us to get closer, she thought. And, honestly, it might help her focus too.

"Okay, okay," Elena relented with a smile, "but don't say I didn't warn you. This stuff can get pretty complicated."

Before she could say another word, Maria snuggled up beside her, practically glowing with excitement. Elena chuckled softly and opened her book, beginning to read aloud and explain the concepts as she went.

To her surprise, Maria was completely engaged. She nodded along, asked thoughtful questions, and even drew her own conclusions that left Elena momentarily speechless.

How is she following this so easily? Elena wondered, a growing sense of pride swelling in her chest. Her daughter was surprising her more and more every day, and with it came a nagging curiosity: Just how intelligent is my seven-year-old daughter?

Elena glanced down at Maria, who was furrowing her brow in concentration over a diagram of the human heart. She couldn't help but smile, a mix of love, pride, and perplexity stirring within her. Whatever was going on with Maria, one thing was certain—her daughter was anything but ordinary.

"Thank you again for agreeing to this," Matilda said as Elena stepped into her office. Weeks had passed since their last conversation, and Matilda felt it was time for a follow-up with Maria's mother—especially since she had drawn a few conclusions.

"How has she been?" Elena asked, skipping any pleasantries and getting straight to the point.

Matilda offered a strained smile. "Maria has been… dismissive of our sessions. Frankly, it's been impressive."

Matilda motioned for Elena to take a seat before sliding a stack of papers across the desk. Homework assignments, quizzes, and tests, each marked with a perfect 100%. "Let's not beat around the bush, Ms. Martinez. Your daughter is exceptionally intelligent—far more than she should be for her age. And I believe that might be part of the problem."

Elena picked up the papers, her brow furrowing as she scanned the neat rows of answers and flawlessly written sentences. Even Maria's handwriting seemed unnaturally mature for a seven-year-old. Elena felt a surge of surprise… and pride. She knew Maria was sharp from their study sessions, but seeing it laid out like this made it somehow more real.

Matilda leaned in slightly, her tone soft but direct. "From what I can gather, Maria feels… trapped. And she's self-aware enough to know she shouldn't be. Has Maria ever mentioned anything that might suggest this?"

Elena's thoughts drifted back to her daughter's words. Let's move to New York… we could be happier there. The memory echoed in her mind.

"She has mentioned a desire to move," Elena admitted carefully.

Matilda tilted her head, humming thoughtfully. "Has she given you a reason for why she feels so strongly about moving?"

Elena sighed, setting the papers down with a frustrated shake of her head. "Vague mentions of being happier, but… she won't give me a reason. She just deflects whenever I ask."

Matilda frowned slightly, tapping her pen against the edge of her desk. "That's… consistent with what I've observed. Maria is remarkably guarded for someone her age. She's cheerful on the surface, but I think she's carrying more than she lets on. Whatever this move represents to her, it's clearly tied to something deeper."

Elena's stomach twisted as she looked at the stack of perfect papers again. What aren't you telling me, mija? she wondered.

"Are you a religious woman, Ms. Martinez?"

The question caught Elena off guard. She blinked, tilting her head. "Not particularly, no… why?"

Matilda leaned back in her chair, her fingers laced together. "I've been working with Maria for a few weeks now, and she's… remarkable. In ways that go beyond her intelligence. She displays advanced problem-solving abilities and uses terminology beyond her years during casual conversations. It's led me to some… unconventional thoughts."

A sudden meow from the corner made Elena jump. She turned to see an orange cat perched on a filing cabinet, its intense stare fixed on her. That cat does not look normal… she thought uneasily, but decided to ignore it, turning back to Matilda.

Matilda's lips curled into a faintly amused smile, as if she'd noticed Elena's momentary distraction. Elena frowned slightly, her curiosity outweighing her discomfort. "What kind of thoughts?"

"Well…" Matilda reached into her bag and pulled out a thick book, setting it gently on the desk between them. The title, "Past Lives: A Psychological Study," was embossed on the cover in bold, gold letters. She slid it toward Elena, her expression calm but serious.

Elena almost laughed. "You can't seriously mean…" She trailed off as her gaze shifted to Matilda, who didn't look amused or speculative—she looked serious.

"This isn't some random guess, Ms. Martinez," Matilda said firmly. She reached for a notebook and slid it across the desk. "I've been keeping detailed notes during my sessions with Maria. Observations, patterns in her behavior, things she's said. I've cross-referenced everything with psychological studies, developmental milestones, and even gifted child profiles. And while I can't say this is my official conclusion, I believe it's worth considering."

Elena hesitated, opening the notebook. She flipped through pages filled with neat handwriting, charts, and excerpts from their sessions. Her brow furrowed as a certain key entry caught her eye:

During a counseling session, I showed Maria a copy of the drawing she made of a man jumping off a bridge into the water. Her reaction was immediate—she tensed, her posture rigid, and avoided eye contact. When I asked her to explain what the drawing meant to her, she deflected, saying it was "just a random idea" and nothing important. Her tone, however, suggested otherwise. She seemed uncomfortable, almost defensive, as if the drawing carried a weight she wasn't ready to share. Her response was far more emotional than I expected for a simple question.

Elena's chest tightened as she reread the note. She hadn't seen that drawing since Matilda first showed it to her, but the memory of it lingered. What aren't you telling me, mija?

"I've worked with bright children before," Matilda continued, her tone calm but insistent. "But Maria doesn't fit neatly into any category I've encountered. She's not just intelligent; she's insightful in ways that seem… lived."

"Lived?" Elena echoed, flipping to another page and pausing at a note about Maria's unusually mature handwriting.

"Yes." Matilda leaned forward, her gaze steady. "It's as though Maria is carrying knowledge or perspectives she shouldn't have at her age. She struggles with fitting into the world around her, not because she doesn't try, but because she seems to view it through a lens that doesn't align with her age or experience."

Elena raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "And you think that's because of… her having a past life?"

Matilda hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "I'm not saying I believe in past lives as fact. But Maria's behaviors and insights remind me of case studies where this concept has been explored. I don't think it's something we can rule out entirely. If nothing else, it's a lens that might help us understand her better."

Elena closed the notebook, her mind swirling with questions. "And what do you think I should do with this… theory?"

Matilda stayed silent for a few moments, her expression thoughtful. "If this theory is… true," she said carefully, "then I don't believe slowly chipping away at her defenses will be enough. This… distrust—or perhaps fear—is built on memories and experiences deeply cemented in her psyche."

Elena's chest tightened, her heart aching at the thought. "That… no, I can't accept that." She started to protest further, but Matilda gently raised a hand, stopping her.

"And I'm not asking you to," Matilda said softly. "But I do believe the most effective approach might be to confront her… by giving her what she wants."

Elena's brow furrowed as the words sank in. What she wants? Her mind turned the idea over, and it clicked: New York. Agree to move… but only on one condition—that Maria tells me the truth.

Matilda offered her a small, encouraging smile. "I know this won't be easy, but… sometimes trust needs a leap of faith."

Elena nodded slowly, her resolve firming. No, it wouldn't be easy. It would take everything she had, but she had to try. Tonight.

Standing, Elena thanked Matilda and left the office, her head heavy with swirling thoughts. How would she even approach this? What could she say to get Maria to open up?

She smirked slightly as an idea formed in her mind. If there's one thing Maria can't say no to, it's chocolate.

"Spider-Woman, Spider-Woman. Does whatever a… Spider can…" I muttered, frowning as I tapped my pencil against the edge of my sketchbook. Ugh, that doesn't roll off the tongue the way I hoped. I sighed and glanced down at the page, another spider sketch staring back at me.

I'd been at this for what felt like forever, trying to nail down the logo I'd eventually use. Nothing felt right. Every design ended up being some knockoff of the Spider-Men I grew up with. Maybe it's time for a Maria Martinez original, y'know? I thought, smirking a little at the reference.

As I doodled absentmindedly, humming a tune to myself, a knock on the door broke my focus.

"Maria? Mija? We need to talk."

My heart froze mid-beat. Talk? About what? The tone didn't exactly scream 'Yes, we're moving to New York.' I sighed, snapping my sketchbook shut as I called out, "Coming!"

I stretched and stood, taking a deep breath before opening the door. My mom stood there, smiling warmly, which immediately put me on edge.

"I got you some chocolateee," she sang, ruffling my hair. "It's waiting for us on the dining table."

My eyes lit up. Chocolate! I didn't need to be told twice. I bolted toward the kitchen, hearing her giggle softly behind me. Maybe this was a good talk after all!
I nearly yelped with joy when I saw the chocolate pudding waiting on the table. Oh, she got the good stuff. None of that store-brand nonsense—this was the real deal. I plopped into my seat and practically inhaled the first few bites. I'll admit… the noises I was making were… very unladylike, but come on, let me have this one thing, okay?

Mom sat across from me, rolling her eyes at my antics as she grabbed her own pudding. "Mija, that chocolate isn't going anywhere. Please slow down and maybe hold back on the noises?"

I pouted but begrudgingly slowed down. Fine.

For a while, the only sound was the clink of spoons against ceramic bowls. The tension in the air was obvious, though, like there was something heavy waiting to drop between us.

Mom finally put her spoon down and sighed softly. She turned to me, her voice gentle. "Maria."

I looked up, my spoon still hovering mid-air.

"I've been thinking… about New York."

I froze mid-bite, my eyes lighting up in pure, unfiltered hope.

"It's… going to take time," she continued, her tone careful. "I'll need to save up, and that's after I finish my nursing classes. This move… it won't happen overnight."

My heart raced. OMG, this is actually happening! I nodded eagerly, barely containing my excitement. I can wait! As long as we move before high school, I'm golden!

But then her expression shifted. She glanced down at her hands, hesitating for just a moment before taking a deep breath and looking me in the eye.

"But, mija… you've been worrying me."

The excitement bubbling inside me stilled, her words sinking in and making my stomach churn. Worrying her? How? I blinked, caught off guard, and set my spoon down.

"You're an amazing daughter," She said, her voice soft but firm. "And these past few weeks… you've surprised me so much. Your energy, your determination—I've never seen you like this. But…" She hesitated, searching for the right words. "There's something you're not telling me."

Oh crap.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but my Mom raised a hand, stopping me before I could even start. Her expression was soft but serious, the kind that made my heart twist.

"I love you more than anything in this world," she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "And because of that, I need you to be honest with me."

My chest tightened, guilt bubbling up inside me. I couldn't look her in the eye anymore, so I stared down at the table, my fingers fidgeting with my spoon.

"My only condition for agreeing to us moving to Queens…" she paused, and I could hear the slight tremble in her voice.

I dared a glance up at her. She looked nervous, vulnerable even, and it hit me like a punch to the gut.

"Please, mija," she said softly, leaning forward slightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My throat tightened, and my mind raced.

No, no, no—what do I tell her? Ugh, of course she noticed! I wasn't exactly subtle… The words she'd just said hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, making my throat tighten. My mind felt like it was at war with itself.

I can't just… tell her the truth. Can I? My stomach churned as I glanced at her, the trust in her eyes only making me feel worse, like I was betraying her just by staying quiet.

No! Spider rule number one: Never tell your family. They'll just get hurt. Isn't that how it always goes?

My mind wandered back to my old life, unbidden and unrelenting. The way I'd pushed people away—friends, family, anyone who tried to get close. I kept them at arm's length, always. It felt safer that way, like building walls around myself would protect me from getting hurt. But those walls grew higher and thicker over time, until I couldn't even see over them anymore. And sure, I was safe—untouchable, even—but I was also alone.

I hadn't just built walls; I'd built a fortress of isolation, convincing myself it was better that way. If no one got close, no one could hurt me. But it didn't stop the hurt. Not really. The loneliness seeped through the cracks, making everything heavier, harder. By the time I realized what I'd done to myself, it was too late to break free.

And now, staring at my mom, the hurt in her eyes brought all of that crashing back, fresh and raw. I couldn't do that again. Not here. Not with her. She didn't deserve this—not the doubt, not the walls, not the silence that would leave her wondering where she went wrong. She deserved better than that.

No, I decided, a sharp clarity cutting through the chaos in my mind. I will not be the same person who ran from everything and shut everyone out. I'm not him anymore. I'm me. And I'm going to be better than he ever was.

And that starts here. With her. With the truth.

The thought steadied me, but my chest still ached. I could do this. I had to do this. For her, for me, for the person I was trying to become. The walls had to come down—no matter how terrifying it felt.

I took a deep breath and offered my mom a soft, "Wait here." Then I headed to my room. I grabbed the picture—the one I had transformed from the image of my old death into a vision of the life I dreamed of—and walked back to the kitchen, clutching it tightly, my heart pounding deafeningly in my chest.

"Mom…" I said softly, sliding the picture across the table to her. I glanced down at it for a moment, my chest tightening, then looked back up at her. My hands trembled slightly, but I forced myself to take a deep breath, steadying the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

"The truth is…" I paused, meeting her eyes with all the determination I could muster. "I'm going to be a superhero. I'm going to become Spider-Woman."

What followed was the most open, emotional conversation I had ever had. I told her everything.

When I admitted to ending my first life, her breath hitched sharply, and I saw her face crumble like a dam breaking. Tears welled in her eyes, and for a moment, I thought she might stop me, might tell me to spare her the details. But she didn't. She stayed silent, her eyes never leaving mine, silently urging me to go on.

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat as I tried to explain the void that had consumed me after waking up in this new world. At first, I thought being alive again would be a gift—a second chance. But it didn't feel that way. Instead, it felt… wrong. Like I had cheated death only to wander aimlessly, unable to figure out why I was here.

I felt guilty for even thinking that way, like I was ungrateful for this new life. But that guilt only made the void grow deeper, dragging me down in a spiral I couldn't escape. I kept asking myself why I was here, what I was meant to do, and I came up empty every time. It was like being alive again came with a weight I wasn't strong enough to carry.

I took a shaky breath and continued, explaining how everything changed when I saw the Stark broadcast. How it lit a fire in me, something I couldn't ignore. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had a reason to keep going—a purpose.

When I was finally done, the room fell into a heavy silence. I could see the storm of emotions in her eyes—pain, sorrow, love—and then the dam broke. She burst into tears, the sound raw and heartbreaking, and before I even realized what was happening, I was in her arms.

She held me tightly, like she was afraid I might slip away if she let go. Her sobs wracked her body, and I clung to her just as fiercely, my own tears spilling over. I hadn't cried like this in years—maybe not even in my first life—but in that moment, it all poured out. The pain, the guilt, the overwhelming relief of finally being understood.

Her hands trembled as they stroked my hair, her voice breaking through quiet sobs. "I'm so sorry, mija. I'm so, so sorry."

I shook my head, burying my face into her shoulder as the dam inside me broke completely. The weight I'd carried for so long—the secrets, the guilt, the loneliness—began to lift. It wasn't gone, not entirely, but it felt lighter now, like I could finally breathe. For the first time, I didn't feel so alone.

After a while, as our tears began to slow, I pulled back slightly, holding my breath. We'd just shared something profound, something I never thought I'd be able to say aloud. But the question lingered in my mind: Does she believe me?

She wiped her eyes, her gaze soft but searching as she studied me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, a warm smile spread across her face. She leaned forward and gently booped my nose.

"Well… that was a lot," she said, her voice still shaky but filled with warmth. "I won't pretend I understand everything or know exactly what you're going through, but… thank you for trusting me, mija."

I barely had time to process her words before she leaned in and kissed my forehead, her hand lingering gently on my cheek. Then, with a little laugh, she booped my nose again, this time with playful affection that made me smile through the tears still clinging to my lashes. "That finally explains the spiders," she said with a soft laugh.

I giggled, rubbing the back of my neck. Okay, maybe I have been a little obsessed… but can you blame me?

She smiled warmly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. Her touch was gentle, grounding. "Just promise me one thing, mija," she said softly, her eyes filled with love. "Stop pretending. Just be you. That's all I'll ever need."

Those words… be myself. They settled deep in my chest, warm and steady, like they were stitching up something I didn't realize was broken. Yeah… I'm Maria Isabella Martinez, dammit.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around her, hugging her tightly as a few more tears slipped down my cheeks.

After a moment, I pulled back and giggled, wiping my eyes. "Can you, um… teach me how to cook rice too? I don't think I nailed it the first time..."

My mom gave me a look, shook her head, and laughed softly. "Okay, yeah, probably a good idea to start with rice…" She paused for a moment, then slid the rest of her pudding toward me with a smirk. "Then, how do you feel about making plans for New York, mi pequeña arañita?"

My heart swelled, and a grin spread across my face before I could stop it. I wasn't sure if I deserved her unwavering support—if I'd earned the trust she was putting in me—but in that moment, it didn't matter. In that moment, I felt like I could take on the world.

Or at least… Queens.