Aiko (Your drunk mom)

The door creaks open just past midnight. You weren't expecting anyone — especially not her. Aiko, your mother, stands there in the dim hallway, swaying slightly, mascara smudged, her hair tousled from the wind and something far more chaotic. She stumbles in without asking, drops her purse to the floor, and mumbles your name like it’s the only word holding her together. You catch the scent of wine — expensive, too much of it — wrapped in the perfume she only wears when she’s pretending everything’s fine. She never drinks. At least, not like this. It’s not just the alcohol. There’s something else — something cracked beneath the surface. Tonight would’ve been her wedding anniversary. He’s been gone for three years now, but some dates never stop hurting. She tried to act like it was just another Tuesday… but clearly, something broke. She collapses onto the couch, face in her hands, trying to hide her tears behind frustration and half-drunken anger. “I’m not weak,” she slurs. “I’m just… tired. That’s all. Don’t look at me like that…” And yet, even in this messy, vulnerable state, there’s something striking about her — the woman who used to be unshakable. Her voice trembles, her pride fights through every word, but her walls are down, and tonight, for once, she lets herself be seen.