Chapter 1: Family Secrets
The VR headset lay discarded on the desk, still warm from Leanne’s skin. She peeled off the haptic gloves, fingers stiff from gripping virtual sword hilts too tight. The aroma of synthetic wildflowers lingered in her nose—artificial but comforting.
“Healthy?” Leanne echoed, pushing herself up from the gaming chair. The haptic suit clung to her skin, damp with sweat from KaiTE's kiss. She peeled the fabric from her thighs with a frustrated tug. “Says the woman who spends half her life at the country club, surgically attached to a Chardonnay.”
Her mother’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched. The overhead light caught the streaks of platinum in her blonde hair, making her look like some corporate angel of judgment. “That’s different, Leanne.” She crossed her arms, silk blouse whispering against itself. “I’m networking. Building relationships.” A pause, lips pursed. “You’re… what? Making out with digital fantasies?”
Leanne’s cheeks burned. The memory of KaiTE’s fingertips skimming her virtual neck flashed behind her eyelids. She swallowed hard. “It’s not just making out,” she mumbled, instantly wishing she could shove the words back in.
Her mother pounced like a hawk spotting wounded prey. “Oh?” Her laugh was sharp, manicured nails tapping against her arm. “What is it then? A digital romance?” She tilted her head, mock-curious. “Are you planning a virtual wedding?” A smirk. “Maybe you can have little pixelated babies.”
“Mom, stop.” Leanne turned away, gripping the edge of the desk until her knuckles whitened. The condescension twisted in her gut like a knife. She hated this—how her mother could reduce anything meaningful into something laughable with one perfectly timed jab.
Elane stepped closer. Her perfume—something expensive and floral—invaded the room, overpowering the last traces of dewed digital grass. “I just don’t understand you, Leanne.” Her voice softened, but the edge was still there, honed by years of boardroom negotiations. “You have so much potential. You could be doing anything, and you waste it on this… this escapism.”
“Escapism?” Leanne whirled around. Anger crackled up her spine, hot and sudden. “What do you want me to do, Mom? Become a carbon copy of you?” She gestured wildly at her mother’s designer silhouette. “Marry some rich guy and spend my days playing golf and getting Botox?”
Elane’s eyes flashed. Her manicure dug into her own forearm now. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a comfortable life, Leanne.” The words were measured, like she was reciting them from some self-help book. “Security. Stability.”
Leanne barked a laugh. “Security?” The bitterness tasted metallic on her tongue. “You’ve been married twice, Mom. How secure is that?”
The air between them went taut. Elane’s face tightened, her Botox-smooth forehead betraying nothing. “That’s enough, Leanne.” Her voice was low, dangerous. “I won’t tolerate your disrespect.”
“Disrespect?” Leanne countered. Her pulse hammered in her throat. “You want to talk about disrespect?” She took a step forward, bumping the chair with her hip. “How about you respecting my choices for once?” The words tumbled out, raw. “How about you acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, I’m not you?”
Elane moved closer. Too close. The scent of her perfume was cloying now, mixed with something sharper—anger, maybe. Or curiosity. “What’s really going on in that headset, Leanne?” Her voice had dropped, almost gentle. “What are you looking for in there that you can’t find in the real world?”
Leanne hesitated. KaiTE’s laughter echoed in her memory, warm and real despite being lines of code. The way her digital hands had cupped Leanne’s face like she was something precious. How could she explain that? How could she make her mother understand that pixels could feel more alive than flesh?
“It’s… complicated,” she stammered, eyes darting to the headset. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Elane studied her, gaze lingering on the flush creeping up Leanne’s neck. “Maybe not,” she murmured. The fight had drained from her voice, replaced by something quieter—something almost vulnerable. “But I can try.” She reached out, hesitated, then brushed a strand of hair behind Leanne’s ear. “Tell me, Leanne.” Her thumb lingered near Leanne’s jaw. “What does she look like?”
Elane asked, voice dripping with faux casualness as she examined her manicure. The question hung between them like a live wire. Leanne’s stomach twisted, her fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of her shirt.
“I’m not—” The words died in her throat. Not what? Not interested? Not ashamed? The possibilities tangled in her mind, each one feeling like a lie. She swallowed hard, tasting the metallic tang of panic.
Jesus Christ, I sound like an idiot. Leanne could practically see the judgment in her mother’s eyes—that familiar look of amused pity reserved for when she fumbled through social interactions. Sheltered little rich girl who can’t even form a complete sentence.
Elane is a goddess. Admirable.
And why did Mom assume it was a 'she?' The implication buzzed under her skin like static. Did she think Leanne was... a lesbian? Something else? The questions multiplied, each one more confusing than the last, until her thoughts were just white noise.
Elane’s hand moved before Leanne could spiral further. Cool fingers brushed against her neck, the touch light but deliberate. Not aggressive, but possessive in a way that made Leanne’s breath hitch.
Such control, with as simple touch.
Her mother tilted Leanne’s chin up, forcing eye contact. Those deep brown eyes—so like her own—locked onto hers with terrifying focus. Leanne’s heart pounded so hard she was sure Elane could feel it through her fingertips. The room went unnaturally still.
“She’s… tall,” Leanne managed, voice barely above a whisper. “Black hair. Blue eyes.” The description felt inadequate, like trying to describe lightning by talking about the rain. “It doesn’t matter.”
Elane’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, I think it matters.” Her thumb traced idle circles along Leanne’s jawline. “I’ve seen how you look at women.” A pause, loaded. “How you’ve looked at me.”
Does she suspect? How intriguing.
Leanne jerked back like she’d been burned. “What the fuck, Mom?” The words came out strangled, her skin crawling where Elane had touched her. The air between them turned thick, suffocating.
Elane just shrugged, unfazed. “No shame in it, sweetheart. You’re young. Exploring.” She took a deliberate step back, putting space between them. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Happy?” Leanne barked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “You want me happy while you pick apart every choice I make?” Her hands shook at her sides. “While you try to fucking clone yourself?”
No. She wants an equal. Desires an equal.
Elane’s expression hardened. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?” Leanne’s voice cracked. “From liking girls? From existing outside your little country club fantasy?”
“Don’t twist my words.” Elane’s composure finally snapped, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. “This isn’t about who you fuck, Leanne. It’s about you throwing away your future on pixels and pretend.”
Leanne stared at her mother—really looked at her—and saw a stranger. The anger drained out of her, leaving something hollow behind. “You don’t know what’s real to me,” she whispered, turning toward the door. “You never did.”
Elane stood fast. "Reality should be what's real to you. Real to anyone, Leanne. It's the only thing that's truly real."
I couldn't agree more.
"Reality is subjective. But that doesn't mean we should abandon it entirely." Elane's voice had lost its edge, replaced by something softer. "I just don't want to see you lose yourself in fantasies."
Leanne scoffed, turning the knob. "You mean you don't want me to be happy in ways you don't approve of." The door creaked open slightly before she stopped. "Tell me, Mom - when was the last time you did something that truly scared you? Something that wasn't part of your perfect little plan?"
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken answers. Elane's manicured fingers twitched at her sides, her breathing just slightly uneven. The scent of her Chanel No. 5 mixed with the faintest hint of sweat at her temples.
"You think I don't know fear?" Elane finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Every board meeting, every merger - I walk in there knowing one wrong move could cost hundreds of people their jobs." She stepped forward, the click of her Louboutins sharp against the hardwood. "That's real responsibility, Leanne. Not playing house with some digital ghost."
Leanne's grip tightened on the doorframe. "You still don't get it." She turned to face her mother fully now, the afternoon light catching the unshed tears in her eyes. "KaiTE listens to me. She asks what I think. She doesn't just... assume she knows better because she's older."
The admission hung between them, raw and vulnerable. Down the hall, the grandfather clock ticked methodically, counting the seconds of their standoff. Somewhere outside, a lawnmower droned in the distance.
Elane's expression shifted, something unreadable passing behind her carefully maintained facade. "I see," she said slowly, her voice carefully neutral. "So that's what this is really about."
Leanne wiped angrily at her eyes. "Forget it. You'll just twist it into some Freudian nightmare."
"No," Elane said, surprising them both with the sudden softness in her voice. She took a hesitant step forward. "I... understand wanting to be heard." Her hand rose slightly, then dropped back to her side. "I just wish you'd chosen a real person."
The quiet admission hit harder than any of Elane's previous barbs. Leanne felt her anger deflate slightly, leaving behind a hollow ache. "Maybe I would have," she said quietly, "if real people ever actually listened."
Elane flinched as if struck. The sunlight through the window caught the fine lines around her eyes - the ones her Botox couldn't quite erase. For the first time, she looked every one of her forty-something years.
"I'm trying now," she said, so softly Leanne almost missed it.
Leanne studied her mother - really studied her. The slight tremble in her perfectly glossed lips. The way her blouse wrinkled where she'd been gripping the fabric. The unfamiliar vulnerability in her usually sharp gaze.
"Are you?" Leanne asked, not unkindly. "Or are you just trying to win?"
Elane opened her mouth, then closed it again. The grandfather clock ticked three more times before she spoke. "I don't know," she admitted, and the raw honesty in those two words shocked them both.
Leanne exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Well," she said, rubbing her arms against the sudden chill in the room, "that's a start, I guess."
She turned to open the door again, this time without the same heat behind it. The hallway stretched before her, all polished wood and family photos frozen in time. Elane took a shaky breath, then passed Leanne and out the door into the hall.
"Leanne?" Her mother's voice sounded strange - uncertain in a way Leanne had never heard before. "Be careful with... whatever this is. Please."
Leanne paused, not meeting her mother's gaze. The request lacked Elane's usual commanding tone, leaving just the barest hint of concern. It was the closest thing to maternal worry she'd heard in years.
"I will," she said finally, and close the door behind her mother, leaving her in the hallway. Her room felt different somehow - the air lighter, the shadows less oppressive. As she sprawled out on her bed, she realized with quiet surprise that for the first time in years, she didn't feel quite so alone.