Bonds

Chapter 90

-Maya POV-

The air hung heavy, thick with the unspoken weight of years. To be hated by both of your own parents- the very thought sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over me. Could anything be more devastating, more soul–crushing?

“No. I don’t hate you, Amaya.”

The words washed over me, a gentle wave breaking through the storm raging within. I stared at her, searching her eyes, desperately seeking

confirmation of what I hoped was the truth.

And I found it.

There was no pity, no condescension, just a deep, raw honesty that resonated deep within my soul.

She didn’t hate me.

She didn’t and the words tumbled out of me in a rush, “I’m sorry, sorry I was a constant reminder of what you’d never have. Sorry that father’s heart was starting to thaw and then I came along and froze it solid again. Lam so sorry.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I held up a hand, silencing her for a moment. “I’m not finished. I’m sorry I chose him, but I will not apologize for choosing love. For choosing someone who showed me what it meant to be cherished when I was treated like an afterthought in my own home.”

My voice shook with anger now. “You were never there for me, Mom. The maids practically raised me. You never stood up for me, never had my back. I’m sorry for any pain I caused you, but you never gave me a reason to choose you in the first place.”

Her eyes flashed with hurt, a flicker of anger briefly replacing the sadness. But then, just as quickly, it subsided, replaced by a weary

acceptance.

“I know. That’s why I called you. That’s why I asked you to bring the twins.Because I’m tired of this charade. Tired of living a life filled with regrets. I want to know what it feels like to be a mother,a grandmother, to these beautiful children.”

She reached out a hand, hesitantly hovering in the space between us. I stared at it, a fragile offering of peace after years of unspoken war. Looking into her eyes, I saw a reflection of myself, a woman yearning for connection, for a family. The anger slowly receded, replaced by a cautious hope.

slightly, but the touch sent a spark of warmth through me. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to heal the wounds of the past, to build a bridge between us. For the sake of the twins, for myself, and maybe, just maybe, for

easy. So much time has passed and i don’t just know,” I admitted,

lips, “Thank you, Amaya,” she whispered, her voice trembling. That’s

of Insects in the warm afternoon sun, alongside the

a blur of pink and yellow darted across the grass, a tiny figure squealing with delight. Ivy, her dark curls bouncing,

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Chapter 90

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In her outstretched hand, she clutched a crumpled butterfly,

disheveled.

in front

butterfly,” I exclaimed, reaching out a finger to gently touch its

“Can you hold it?” she asked, tilting

course, sweetie,” I replied, carefully cradling the butterfly in my palm. “See how gentle you need

as she watched the butterfly flutter against my skin then surprisingly she turned

As if my hesitation, Ivy reached out, tugging my hand towards my mother. “Seel” she insisted, her voice laced with a hint of

the middle barely minutes ago so I still wasn’t sure but with deep breath, I turned to my mother who was

softly, extending my hand holding the delicate creature. Sne smiled reluctantly, not looking at the butterfly

in her eyes and her mood changing in a span of seconds,

to be held. They need to be free

she asked, a hint of curiosity replacing

nodded. “Yes, free. Just like you, they need to

it go even though I don’t want

to

newfound understanding, Ivy slowly pushed my hands open, watching as the butterfly, freed from its temporary prison, fluttered its wings and soared into

a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. “Bye–bye, butterfly,” she whispered, waving a tiny hand. “Go play

didn’t realize just how much I did until this moment. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for us to build a new kind of relationship, one based on understanding and acceptance. And perhaps, in the process, we could both learn to appreciate the beauty and freedom of the world around

chest at my mother’s somewhat connection with Ivy and the innocent joy of the butterfly’s release vanished in an instant. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over

children doing

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