Lina didn't even realize when she fell asleep. One moment, she was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, and the next, she was waking up to the sound of her mother's voice—nagging.
"You're going to sprain your neck sleeping like that," her mum scolded the moment she opened her eyes.
Lina groaned, shifting to sit up, her body still heavy with exhaustion. "Mum…"
"Do you know how bad it is to sleep on the couch? You could wake up with a stiff neck, back pain, or even worse—"
Lina sighed, rubbing her face. "Mum—"
"You could mess up your spine, you know? Do you think I don't read? I see all these articles about how improper sleeping posture leads to long-term damage—"
"Mum, please," Lina whined, already regretting not dragging herself to an actual bed earlier.
Her mother's eyes narrowed, arms crossed. "Is this how you sleep in your house? Don't tell me you sleep on the couch like this all the time?"
Lina sat up straighter, shaking her head quickly. "No, of course not! I sleep in my bed. Every night. Religiously."
Her mother didn't look convinced. "Hmm."
Lina tensed. She could practically see the thoughts racing through her mum's mind. If she didn't shut this down fast, the woman would go full-on worried parent mode and start offering unsolicited solutions—like moving back home, or worse, trying to find her a new place.
"Mum, I promise I sleep properly. My bed is great. Super comfortable. Best sleep of my life."
Her mother gave her a long, scrutinizing look before finally sighing. "Alright."
Lina exhaled, thankful for the tiny mercy.
Truth be told, her mum had always been this way. Protective to a fault. The kind of woman who'd read about a rare disease and immediately believe her daughter had it just because she sneezed twice. It had always been that way growing up. If Lina had a slight cough, there'd be a thermometer in her mouth and a full-on herbal remedy lineup waiting for her by the kitchen sink.
It was exhausting sometimes, but it was also love. Loud, overwhelming, too-much love.
Finally, her mother stepped back and gestured for her to follow. "Come to my room."
Lina stood up, dragging her feet as she followed her mum down the hallway. She was still groggy, hair sticking out in every direction, socks mismatched. Honestly, she just wanted to crawl back onto the couch and melt into it.
Her mum opened the bedroom door, and Lina expected the usual—tidy bed, perfectly arranged pillows, and maybe the faint scent of lavender fabric spray.
Instead, what greeted her was chaos.
The bed was covered in clothes.
Piles and piles of them.
Lina blinked. "Uh… Mum?"
Her mother smiled proudly, arms stretched toward the mess like she was unveiling treasure. "I bought all these for you."
Lina's eyes shot up—not in surprise, but in sheer, unfiltered fucking panic.
Her mum was doing it again. Trying to overfill her already suffocating apartment.
"Mum… this is a lot of clothes."
Her mother waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. A young lady needs variety. You can't just wear the same thing over and over like a cartoon character."
Lina swallowed a groan. If her mother even knew how tiny her apartment was—how her closet was currently being shared with a water heater and a stack of shoe boxes—she'd probably barge in during the night and drag her back home.
Lina forced a smile, picked up a random dress from the pile. "Wow. This is… so much. Thank you."
Her mother's grin widened. "Try them on."
Lina's smile twitched. "What?"
"Try them on. Let's see how they fit. If anything needs to be returned, I need to know now."
Lina hesitated. She was standing on a very dangerous edge here. Trying them on meant accepting them. And accepting them meant there was no turning back. She'd have to take the clothes—probably even buy hangers, maybe a whole new storage rack she couldn't afford.
She glanced at her mother, who was already fishing through the pile with the energy of a personal shopper.
Fuck.
Resigned, Lina grabbed the first thing she saw—a soft, floral summer dress with puffy sleeves—and dragged herself into the bathroom.
When she stepped out, her mother gasped dramatically.
"Oh, you look stunning! Turn around—let me see."
Lina spun lazily, the hem of the dress brushing against her legs. "Mum, this is too much."
Her mother ignored her, already holding up a new outfit. "Try this one next."
Lina sighed. "We're really doing a fashion show right now?"
"Don't be dramatic. You're just trying on clothes I bought for you."
"One or two outfits would've been fine, Mum. This is like… a seasonal collection."
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. One for each season."
"One for each week, you mean."
But it didn't matter what Lina said. Her mother was already picking another blouse and pants combo with the intensity of a stylist prepping someone for a red carpet event.
One outfit turned into five. Five turned into ten. By the time her mother was finally satisfied, Lina was ready to collapse again.
"You need to take all of them," her mother said, folding a few neatly.
Lina's stomach dropped. "Mum… my closet is already packed."
Her mother scoffed. "Make space."
"Mum—"
"No, Lina. I bought these for you, not for them to sit here and collect dust."
Lina sat on the bed, legs dangling, watching as her mother hummed while packing the clothes into a huge tote bag like she was wrapping a gift.
"Mum, seriously. I love the clothes, I do. But I really don't think I have space."
Her mother didn't even pause. "Then maybe it's time to find a bigger place."
Lina froze. Fuck.
"No, no, no," she said quickly, waving her hands. "I'm fine where I am."
Her mother looked up, brows raised. "You keep saying that, but I've never even seen the place."
Shit.
"That's because… it's messy. Like, really messy. I wouldn't dare let you near it right now."
Her mother narrowed her eyes. "It better not be some cramped little place in a sketchy building."
Lina forced a smile. "Of course not."
Her mother studied her for a few seconds longer. Lina could tell she didn't buy it, but thankfully, the older woman didn't push it—this time.
"Alright," she said, zipping up the tote bag. "But next time you come home, you're giving me a tour."
Lina just nodded quickly, thankful the conversation was ending there.
For now, she was safe.
But as she watched her mother finish packing with that proud little hum, a sinking feeling settled in her chest. This battle was far from over. And next time, her mum might not settle for words.
Lina flopped backward onto the bed, one arm over her eyes.
God help her if her mother ever stepped foot in that shoebox apartment.
She didn't even want to think about what would happen if she opened the fridge.
Or saw the pile of laundry Lina had been avoiding for two weeks.
Or realized the only reason Lina had any clean spoons was because she washed just one every time she needed it.
Her eyes fluttered shut as her mum bustled around the room, still talking about something—probably the importance of matching your shoes with your bag.
Lina drifted again, caught somewhere between guilt, love, and exhaustion.
Home. It was chaotic and exhausting.
But it was also warm.
And even if she couldn't admit it out loud—she missed it.
More than she realized.