Origano and Basilico

The memorial service was still weeks away. Carina hadn’t been ready to plan anything at first, and Maya hadn’t pushed. But now, watching Carina’s grief twist into something darker, Maya wondered if she ever would be.

She paused at the door, her fingers curling around the handle, but she didn’t turn it right away. She had been giving Carina space, letting her grieve in her own way, but the heaviness and tension inside the apartment was starting to gnaw at her. Maya had seen grief before—had watched her colleagues struggle with loss. But this? 

This was anger. 

And Maya knew exactly what anger could do.

She had lived in it, let it fuel her, let it build her into something fierce, untouchable, unbreakable—until she broke. She had spent years trapped in it, until her body finally collapsed beneath the weight of it. 

She could feel that same fire burning inside Carina now. But Carina wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

Carina was light.

She had been through loss, pain, the weight of their father’s illness and death —but she had never let trauma define her. She had never let it darken her. She had never built walls like Maya had.

And now, Maya could feel them rising. She saw it in the way Carina was shutting down, in the way she spoke less and less, in the way her anger simmered just beneath the surface.

And Maya hated it.

She knew how it could twist you. How it could cling to you, turn you into something you don’t recognize. Knew what it was like to let it burn you from the inside out.

She wouldn’t let that happen to Carina.

She inhaled deeply, setting her jaw, bracing herself—then she turned the handle and stepped inside.

Maya sensed the shift immediately. Her apartment felt different. Not just quiet, but heavy. She spotted Carina on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing. Rigid. Unmoving. And Maya knew exactly what that meant. She’d been waiting for it.

She approached carefully, her voice low but steady. “Hey.”

No response.

Maya’s stomach tightened. She could see it now—Carina’s jaw clenched, her fingers digging into her arms, the tension palpable. She wasn’t just grieving. She was angry.

“How are you holding up?” Maya asked gently, though she already knew the answer.

Carina’s head snapped up, eyes sharp. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be holding up, Maya. Sono così… così… arrabbiata. Sono furiosa.” (I’m so… so… angry. I’m furious.)

Her voice wavered, but the anger was undeniable, vibrating beneath the surface.

Maya exhaled slowly, trying to keep herself grounded. “I know.”

And she did. She knew exactly what that kind of anger felt like.

She sat down beside Carina, her voice careful, measured. “I can’t imagine how hard this is, Carina. But you can’t keep holding onto all this anger. You have to let it go somehow.”

Carina stiffened.

Then, suddenly, she was on her feet, pacing, her hands clenched into fists. “E come, Maya? Eh? Come dovrei farlo?” (And how, Maya? Huh? How am I supposed to do that?)

Her voice rising, her breath quick and uneven.

“What do you want me to do? Pretend everything’s okay when all I want to do is break everything around me? My brother was murdered! Murdered, Maya! I watched him die!”

The words hit Maya like a punch to the gut.

But she didn’t flinch. 

“I don’t want you to pretend,” she said softly, but firmly. “I know you’re angry. And you have every right to be. But keeping it locked inside, Carina…it’s not helping you. It’s just making it worse.”

Carina let out a sharp, humourless breath, shaking her head. “Tu non capisci, Maya. Non capisci.” (You don’t understand, Maya. You don’t understand.)

Her hands trembled, and Maya could see how much she was fighting against the storm inside her.

“Andrea was my brother. Il mio fratellino, (My little brother). I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to keep him safe. But I couldn’t.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop.

“He’s gone, and now I have to live with that. And I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Maya had seen Carina grieving. She had seen her sad, exhausted, numb. But this—this was something else entirely.

“Dovevo fare di più,” (I should have done more.) Carina whispered, voice hoarse, her fingers pressing against her temple. 

“Carina—”

She stopped suddenly, exhaling sharply, pain and frustration etched on her face.

Maya felt her stomach clench at the familiarity of it all. She had been here before. She had drowned in the what-ifs and let them eat her alive.

And she knew what Carina needed to hear. She knew exactly what she should say. That it wasn’t her fault. That she couldn’t have saved him. That she did everything she could. But the words got stuck in her throat.

Because if that was true for Andrew — Then it was true for Mason too.

And Maya had never been ready to face that. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening painfully— And before she knew it, she was moving backward, toward the entrance door.

Carina turned sharply, her brows pulling together. “Maya?”

“I…I’m sorry. I just—I need a minute,” Maya said quickly, pressing a hand against the doorframe, her chest tightening too fast. “Just—I’ll be back.”

She barely heard Carina’s confused response before stepping out into the hallway.

Her hands were shaking.

Her chest burned.

Breathe, Bishop. Breathe.

She hadn’t thought about Mason in months.

She had buried it, just like she always did. And then Andrew died, and Carina was falling apart, and she had pushed it further down.

But now? Now, Carina was torturing herself about not being able to save him. And suddenly, Maya was back in that homeless camp, kneeling in front of Mason, hearing him whisper, "You left me, Maya."

A sharp wave of nausea surged through her as she pressed her back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut. She shook her head, fighting against the flood of ugly memories threatening to drown her. But she knew she had to focus. This wasn’t about her. This was Carina’s grief. Carina’s pain. Maya needed to keep it together.

So she did what she always did…She pushed it down.

Shoving off the wall, she inhaled deeply, dug her fingernails into her palms, and forced herself to be fine.

Then, she turned the door handle and stepped back inside.

Maya felt Carina’s eyes on her the second she stepped back into the room.

She had forced herself to come back inside, but now she was here, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She didn’t feel ready to face Carina yet. She needed more time to calm down. Her hands itched for something to do, so she made a beeline for the kitchen, turning on the tap, filling a glass of water she didn’t even need.

She took a slow sip, staring at the counter, her breath too shallow, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

She was not going to say anything about Mason.

This was about Carina. Carina’s anger. Carina’s grief. 

She needed to pull herself together. Carina needed her to be solid—She didn’t need her unravelling too.

But Carina wasn’t saying anything. She was just watching. Maya could feel it, the way Carina’s anger had momentarily dulled, her focus shifting. 

Maya took another slow sip of water, not trusting herself to speak, to look up. But she knew Carina was still staring. 

Even in the relatively short time they’d known each other, Carina had always had a way of seeing through her, stripping down the walls Maya had carefully constructed.

And now, Maya could feel Carina peeling back the layers without saying a word.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Carina spoke. “Maya,” she said, gentle but insistent, devoid of any anger now.

Maya gripped the counter. 

Carina took a step closer. “What happened just now?”

Maya shook her head automatically. “Nothing.”

Carina huffed softly.

Another step closer.

Maya could feel her now, close enough that the warmth of her presence made it harder to keep her walls up.

“You walked out of here like you couldn’t breathe,” Carina said, voice still low, calm. “And now you won’t even look at me.”

Maya exhaled sharply, finally setting down the glass.

“I don’t want to do this right now,” she muttered.

Carina hummed. “I think you do.”

Maya clenched her jaw. “Carina.”

Carina didn’t move. “Talk to me.”

Maya hesitated, still fighting herself. But Carina waited. Just stood there, steady, patient. Maya closed her eyes briefly, letting out a slow breath, before finally, finally— 

“I had a brother too.”

Carina’s breath caught.

Maya squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the counter as if to brace herself against what she had just said.

For a long, agonizing moment, Carina didn’t speak.

And for Maya, the silence was worse. She swallowed, finally forcing herself to turn around, to face Carina.

Carina was staring at her, eyes wide with surprise and something deeper—something knowing, something heartbreaking…And Maya couldn’t handle it. She dropped her gaze again, her breath tight in her chest.

“Mason,” she said, voice quiet, resigned.

Carina’s expression softened, her concern deepening. “Maya…”

Maya let out a shaky laugh, rubbing her hands over her face.

“He’s a mess,” she admitted, her voice raw.

Carina stayed still, letting her take her time.

Maya inhaled sharply, dropping her hands. “My father, Lane —he… he never saw him. Not really. Just ignored him, pushed him aside, made him feel small.”

Carina’s lips pressed together tightly, her body tensing. Maya let out a humourless chuckle. “And I—I thought if I was perfect enough, if I was everything our father wanted me to be, then maybe it would be enough for both of us. That he’d be proud of Mason too.”

She shook her head, “But instead, I just left him behind.”

Carina’s brows furrowed deeply.

Maya swallowed hard, the next words getting caught in her throat, “He took an overdose,” she finally whispered, feeling the flush of shame and guilt rising, unable to look Carina in the eye, “The day I won gold at the Olympics.”

Carina sucked in a breath, her eyes widening, flickering with understanding, heartbreak.

Maya exhaled, her throat aching, tight, unbearable.

“He survived,” she added quietly, blinking fast. “But after that… it was like I lost him anyway.”

And then Maya told her everything. She told her about the overdose, the homeless camps, the arrest, the paints she left behind, the way he looked at her like she had failed him. And when she finally finished, her voice cracked as she whispered, 

“When Andrew died, I—I thought—I can’t do this again. I can’t watch someone I…” She hesitated, swallowing hard, her eyes flashing with something raw, something intense, “Someone I care about…break over a brother they couldn’t save.”

Carina inhaled sharply, her eyes filling with tears, ‘Bella…’ 

So soft.

Maya felt herself unravelling, her body tensing against the weight of her own words. And then—Carina moved.  She took the last step forward and reached for Maya, arms open, instinctive, sure. Maya stepped back. Her breath hitched sharply, her hands rising in defence.

Carina immediately froze, her brows drawing together, her arms still slightly lifted, but her movements careful, non-threatening. She didn’t push, didn’t demand. She just looked at Maya. 

And that’s what stopped her.

The way Carina was still open, still reaching out to her—not just physically.

Her eyes weren’t filled with pity either. They weren’t demanding. They simply offered warmth, comfort, safety. And in that moment, as steady brown eyes—so certain, so sure—invited her in, Maya realized she wanted it. She wanted this.

She lowered her hands; her shoulders eased. And this time, when Carina stepped forward, Maya didn’t move away. She let her pull her in—and she knew, without hesitation, that she’d made the right decision. It felt different from anything she’d ever known. 

Not suffocating. Not uncomfortable. Not triggering. 

Just solid. 
Just warm. 
Just Carina.

Maya let herself sink into it. She allowed herself to be held.

But then, she felt it—the way Carina’s breathing shifted, the way her hands trembled slightly. 

The anger wasn’t gone.

It was just waiting beneath the surface. And Maya knew—if Carina didn’t let it out, it would destroy her – And she couldn’t let that happen.

Maya swallowed, her throat tight. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to be the one to push her. But she knew, for Carina’s sake, she had to. 

Maya slowly pulled back, searching Carina’s expression. There it was. The grief. The exhaustion. The fury that still smouldered beneath it all.

Maya’s voice was soft, but deliberate. “You’re still angry, aren’t you?”

Carina hesitated, her jaw tightening, but then nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Maya inhaled deeply. “Good.”

Carina frowned, her gaze sharpening. “Good?”

Maya nodded, holding her gaze, steady, unwavering. “Because you’re allowed to be angry, Carina.”

She let the words sit, watched the way Carina tensed slightly.

So Maya kept going.

Her voice dropped, low and careful, forcing herself to say the words Carina needed to hear—even though she knew they would open up the wounds all over again.

“Andrew should still be here.”

Carina’s body stiffened. Maya forced herself to push forward, despite everything in her screaming for her to stop. 

“He should have had a future. He should have been a surgeon for another twenty years. He should have…” Maya’s voice wavered, it felt physically painful, but she didn’t stop. 

“He should have been safe.”

Carina let out a shaky exhale, her face crumpling into a frown, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Maya could feel it now—the pressure building inside her, the rage swirling beneath the surface.

One. More. Push.

Maya took a small step closer, voice still steady but firm. “But he wasn’t safe, Carina.”

Carina’s breath hitched, she shook her head stiffly, her eyes flashing a warning, hands trembling.

Maya braced herself, watching as Carina’s her chest rose and fell too quickly, like her body couldn’t contain the emotions anymore.

And then Maya said it—the words she knew would break her open completely. 

“He’s gone.”

Carina’s whole body jolted, like she had been physically struck. A harsh, broken sound tore from her throat, and she turned away from Maya, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, as if she could somehow stop the pain from spilling out. Maya exhaled, her own chest aching, but she braced herself. She reached out, fingers brushing against Carina’s wrist. 

“Let’s go.”

Carina flinched, pulling away slightly. “What? Go where?” Her voice was tight, defensive.

Maya held her ground, kept her voice gentle but firm. “Somewhere you can scream and not scare the neighbours.”

Carina let out a harsh laugh. She gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head, her jaw set, “I don’t need to go anywhere,” she muttered, turning away, wrapping her arms around herself tightly, as if holding herself together.

Maya stepped forward, her heart pounding, her instincts still screaming at her not to push any further. But she knew Carina needed this. 

So she pushed.

“Carina,” Maya said, softer now, but no less firm. “This anger? It’s not just going to go away. You have to let it out.”

Carina’s breathing was uneven, her shoulders rising and falling with sharp, erratic breaths. Maya hesitated, then pressed the final button she knew would break through.

“Wouldn’t Andrew want you to do something with it?”

That did it.

Carina’s head snapped up, her eyes sharp and wild as they locked onto Maya. Then she saw it—the way her rage flickered, then surged forward, overriding the grief.

Carina’s hands curled into fists again. ‘Maya.’ Her voice laced with quiet fury.

Maya was unwavering. Gently, carefully, took her hand. “Come with me.”

Carina looked like she wanted to fight it, like she wanted to argue. But then—she exhaled sharply and nodded stiffly. 

Maya led her to the car.