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.

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 her too. Or maybe I just wanted to know what it would feel like to be loved by my

passed and i don’t just know,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. “But for the sake of

“Thank you, Amaya,” she

and the faint hum of Insects in the warm afternoon sun, alongside the twins excited chatter. sat there, hand in hand, a fragile connection forming after years of

grass, a tiny figure squealing with delight. Ivy, her dark

10:30 Sat, 22 Jun

Chapter 90

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her face. In her outstretched hand, she clutched a

disheveled.

she shricked, stopping right in front of me,

beautiful butterfly,” I

giggled, “Can you hold it?” she asked, tilting her

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

solemnly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she watched the butterfly flutter against my skin then surprisingly she turned

if my hesitation, Ivy reached out, tugging my hand towards my mother. “Seel” she insisted, her voice

only met in the middle barely minutes ago so I still wasn’t sure but with deep breath, I turned to my mother who was staring like she

the butterfly,” I said softly, extending my hand holding the delicate creature. Sne smiled reluctantly, not looking at the butterfly I stretched out to her but me, after a moment, she finally looked

lip trembled, tears welling up in her eyes and her mood changing in a

don’t like to be held. They need

she asked, a hint

you, they need to

go even though I

deserves to

open, watching as the butterfly, freed from its temporary prison, fluttered its wings and soared

trajectory with her eyes, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. “Bye–bye, butterfly,” she whispered,

relationship. I 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.

warmth that had bloomed in my 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 me. My father’s voice,

are the bastard’s children

10:30 Sat, 22 Jun