Crumble slump

"Mama! That's my mama!" Matteo shrieked again, and Elena struck right on the stage and felt as if the whole light on the runway was turned on her, her eyes wavering.

That was Matteo, alright, standing and clapping while everyone else smiled at the cute little boy who had a locket on his neck. To make matters worse, he was making his way to her.

Conscious of herself, she swept her blonde hair back; how did he find her? How did he even recognize her? He was so tiny when she left; he was almost three when she left, for goodness' sake.

Fighting the wave of emotions about knocking her off her feet, as she watched Matteo's head, he ignored the stairs and climbed straight to the podium, struggling to hold onto it.

A sob rose to her throat, deep happiness seeing her baby again, and fear, for if he was here, it meant Nikolai was behind him, somewhere, around.

She saw him now, Noah, coming forward to help the little boy climb on the stage where she was, all those time maintaining eye contact with her, surprisingly even after all those years, she could read his eyes

He wanted her to play along.

What the hell was happening?

Matteo was before her now, looking into her face, confusion in his eyes, for if that was his Mama, why didn't she look happy to see him? But he didn't care; he wrapped his hands around her leg.

She heard him mumble against her jean, "I miss you, Mama."

There and then, the cameras and lights clicking away didn't matter anymore; she broke down, kneeling before the handsome little man before her, gently pushing him back to see his relieved face.

"You recognized me, Mama?"

"Oh Matteo," she caressed his face, "I'll never forget you,"

He hugged her again, this time tighter, as if he was afraid she would disappear without him again, and she went in, her hands on his back and in his hair, nose in his shoulder, sniffing in that baby scent she missed so much.

"Oh God, Matteo, I missed you so much."

Amid the tears, she opened her eyes, seeing Noah struggling to push the press back. It sent a Deja Vu through her, this life, the spotlight, Cameras, and snide questions.

That life again.

Seeing Noah was quickly losing the struggle, she promptly held Matteo's hand and hurriedly led him into the dressing room, dropped him, and shut the door turning in the keys.

The thud of her heartbeat was uncontrollable as she placed her forehead against the door, whispering silent prayers and hoping this was one of the numerous dreams she usually had about Nikolai.

He couldn't be here.

He shouldn't find out about Mia.

"Mama," her first love's silent voice came up again, and she turned, peering into the pained eyes, "Why did you leave me? You said you won't leave again."

Her bottom lip trembled, and she placed her hand over her nose, sniffing into it; the accusation was raw, so raw it hurt. How did he remember all of those?

Matteo reached for a locket around his neck, opening it; out of curiosity, she peered into it and immediately wished she hadn't.

He had a picture of her around his neck; she felt herself fold, her fingers trembled, the accusation in those innocent green breaking her in tiny bits.

She knelt to him; she'd sort that out later, right now... "Matteo, who did you come with?"

"Only Noah, Mama"

Phewww.

"And Dad"

Oh welp!

She sprang to her feet, looking for a window she could jump through away from this place that suddenly felt stuffed and hot at the mere mention that he was around.

It didn't help that there was a pound on the door, and Noah's voice came through, "First Lady, open up."

First what? She felt trapped.

"FIRST LADY!" more heavy knocks on the door.

Running past a confused-looking Matteo, she ran to the table where makeup kits were scattered and quickly snatched her bag, then ran for the window.

Matteo couldn't hold his laughter at the sight before him, "Mama, are you ok?"

Hell, she wasn't, but before she could make another step towards the window, Noah kicked the door open, sending her freezing on her spot, when the familiar dark pupils met her.

He looked from her to laughing Matteo, then to the window, and then back to her, who was readying herself for an angry burst.

"That door cost a lot, sir."

He blinked, "Forgive me, First Lady. But His Excellency wants a talk with you."

*****

Minutes later, she was walking in front of Noah, Matteo's hand in hers, as they made their way towards a lone grey car in front of a black one.

She could feel her hands getting sweaty, even though she felt cold inside; she looked behind her where Noah stood upright, his brows raised, a warning for her not to do anything funny

Was this a kidnap scene?

What did he want from her now?

"wait here," Noah suddenly said, making her stop in her tracks, and then he stood before Matteo, "Come on, big guy, your dad wants to talk with your mum."

Matteo frowned, "I'm not leaving Mama again."

Noah still stretched forth his hand, "That's what he wants to talk to her about," then his voice went conspiratorial, "Only he can change her mind,"

Matteo looked up at her, his hand tightening around hers, struggling to make a decision; Elena saw him bite his bottom lips, which had her melting; she squeezed his hand and smiled at him, "Go with Noah, baby; I'm not leaving anymore."

Knowing she was lying to him, she felt tears gathering; she blinked them back in before he could see them.

Matteo gently pulled her hands down, and she went along, squatting before him and trying not to gasp when he pressed his lips on her forehead before leaving her and walking towards the grey car.

She watched him go, knowing that might be the last time she'd set her eyes on him, that is after she gave his father a piece of her mind.

He just ruined her show; he just ruined her life. Again!

Seeing Noah come back for her after the gray car drove off, she subconsciously flipped her hair back, arranged her jean pant, and prayed her mascara didn't run down her face during her emotional moment.

Noah walked past her and opened the door of the passenger's seat, "Come in, First Lady."

"Please, it's Elen Santos."

Noah's gaze hardened, and without being told and still clutching her purse, she walked forward, making sure he felt the hate in her gaze before she entered the car, looking straight at the windshield when the door jammed shut.

"Elena"

The thick drawl hit her ears, and her anger vanished instantly; she found her hands clutching her purse as if only it could help her from being swept off her feet.

She turned to find him looking out the window.

"President Nikolai," her voice came more like whispers.

He turned to her, brown eyes taking in her blonde hair first before it lowered to her eyes, "I thought it was you."

And there she knew she had lied to herself for three years.

For she was still attracted to him.