Gloria


    Lydia’s voice shook as she asked. “Wh-what did you say?”


    I looked away, standing up as I walked toward the open window. The cold night air brushed against my face as I exhaled slowly. Then, I turned to her, letting my all seriousness show. “You’re in my house, Lydia.”


    Her brows knotted together in confusion. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head, trying to make sense of everything.


    “And…” I hesitated, knowing that nothing could prepare her for what I was about to say. But I had kept it in for too long. She deserved to know.


    I met her gaze and said it. “I’m… I’m your mother, Lydia.”


    Her entire body froze. She just stared at me, not blinking, not breathing, as if her mind couldn’t process my words. I watched as emotions warred in her eyes-shock, disbelief, and anger. It was slowly building up but it was there.


    “No.” She whispered, shaking her head slightly. “No, that’s impossible. You… you’re a prison nurse. My mother is…” She clenched her fists under the duvet. “She’s someone I never wanted to meet. She abandoned me. She left me in an orphanage like I was trash. She never looked for me, never cared. My mother is-”


    She cut herself off, her jaw tightening. I took a step toward her, my throat tightening. “Lydia, I—”


    “Say it again!” she suddenly snapped, her voice cracking with so much emotion. I inhaled deeply and watched her for a second. “I’m your mother,” I replied.


    She let out a bitter, humourlessugh. “No. No, you’re not. You have a daughter my age, right? That’s who you’re thinking of. My mother left me. She didn’t care. She never-” Her voice broke, and she turned away, struggling topose herself.


    I felt my eyes burn watching her like this. “I never wanted to leave you.”


    “Then why did you?” she hissed, gripping the duvet like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. “Why did abandon me like that? You never checked up on me for years! And what you were financially while I struggled?”


    you


    I sat down on the bed beside her, reaching for her hands, but she yanked them away. I exhaled, nodding slowly. “I expected this. I knew you’d be angry.”


    “Angry?” Herugh was hollow, filled with so much pain it made my chest ache. “Gloria, I hate you.”


    The words hurt me more than I could even exin, but I didn’t get mad. I had no right to since I deserved it and more. “Then let me tell you the truth before you decide how much you hate me.”


    She clenched her jaw, her silence permitting me to speak. I took a deep breath. “I was young when I had you. Too young. And I was broke. Your father-“I hesitated, my fingers twisting together, “-he told me to get rid of you. He didn’t want a child. He said we had no money, no future, and that if I kept you, I’d ruin both our lives.”


    Lydia’s expression darkened. “So you chose to listen to him?”


    “I chose to give you a life, Lydia.” I met her eyes, “I had no job. No home. If I kept you, we would’ve starved together. He would have made me suffer. I did the only thing I could-I left you somewhere safe.”


    “You don’t get to decide what’s safe. You weren’t there, Gloria. You didn’t see what it was like in that ce.” Her voice wasced with anger.


    “You didn’t hear the way they spoke to kids like me, how they treated me. How I was treated like I didn’t matter because I had no past, no family. You weren’t there when I cried myself to sleep, wondering why my own mother didn’t love me enough to stay.”


    I closed my eyes for a second, holding back my tears. When I opened them, I let her see the truth. “I searched for you.”


    Lydia blinked. “What?”


    “I spent years searching for you.” She scoffed, ready to call me a liar, but I didn’t let her. “When I finally got away from your father, I went back. I went to that orphanage, but you were already gone. They had no records of where you went, who took you in, like you vanished, Lydia. I spent years trying to find you, but it was like you never existed.”


    “I didn’t stop looking,” I continued. “Not until I found you.” She turned and asked, “And when was that?”


    I swallowed, hesitating for the first time. Then I saw it click in her head. “The prison.” Her voice was hoarse.


    I exhaled. “Yes.” Her whole body tensed. “You found me, and you didn’t even tell me?”


    “I couldn’t.” I leaned forward. “Think, Lydia. You were convicted of murder. What would I have done? Walk in and say, “Hey, I’m your long-lost mother, let’s go home’?”


    Her fists clenched. “So you just… became a nurse?”


    I nodded. “I had studied nursing and I managed to get the position easily. It was the only way I could be close to you without scaring you away. I needed to watch over you until I knew you were ready for the truth.”


    She turned away, her breathing uneven. For a long moment, we sat in silence and I felt more and more nervous as the seconds ticked by.


    Then, she muttered, “So what now?” Her voice was t. “Now that you’ve told me, what do you expect me to do? Hug you? Cry in your arms? Forget that you left me to rot?”


    I shook my head. “No. I expect you to take time. I know this isn’t easy. I know you don’t trust me. And that’s okay.”


    She scoffed. “Oh, so now you’re patient?”


    I let out a slow breath, refusing to argue. “I don’t need you to forgive me today, Lydia. But what I do need is for you to listen.”


    I sighed, my voice barely above a whisper. “And you don’t have to forgive me. Just… try to see things from my perspective. Maybe then, you’ll understand that I never meant to hurt you.”


    Her voice was cold. “Yeah? Well, you did.”


    The finality in her tone told me there was nothing else I could say. I got up and left the room, closing the door softly behind <ol><li></li></ol>


    Soon, I heard the sounds of her sobbing badly again, and I couldn’t help the tears that trickled down my cheeks. How was I supposed to help her? She’s been through so much already, all because of me. I failed her.


    For four days, I watched my daughter be a shell of her old self. She barely spoke to me. She barely ate.


    The only time she moved with any purpose was when she was heading to the hospital.


    Every morning, without fail, Lydia would walk into the NICU. Her eyes looked quite exhausted, and her hands seemed to always tremble.


    She would sit there for hours, staring down at her babies. I didn’t push her. I knew she wasn’t ready to talk to me yet.


    But it hurt.


    It hurt watching her go through this alone when I was right here, wanting to help. Watching her was unbearable.


    On the fourth day, the news broke of her ex-husband, Mason’s romantic involvement only a few weeks after her death news was announced.


    I was in the kitchen when I heard Lydia’s sharp intake of breath. I turned, wiping my hands on a towel. “Lydia?”


    She didn’t answer. She was frozen in ce, her phone gripped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.


    “What’s wrong?” She still didn’t respond. But then, slowly, she turned the phone around. I had already read the news earlier this morning but I was hoping she wouldn’t find it.


    Mason woods Moves On-Possible Marriage with Julia Everett?


    That damn man.


    I looked at Lydia. She was still staring at the screen, “Lydia,” I said softly but she didn’t respond.


    “Lydia put the phone down.” Without warning, she hurled the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack.


    She turned away, pressing her hands to her face. “That bastard,” she whispered. I took a cautious step toward her. “Lydia-”


    “I hate him,” she choked out. I had seen Lydia angry before. I had seen her hurt, but not like this. I reached out carefully, resting a hand on her arm.


    The second I touched her, she broke. Her body copsed against mine, her arms wrapping around me tightly as she sobbed.


    For the first time in days, she let me hold her. She cried into my shoulder, her fingers clutching the back of my shirt.


    She cried for what felt like hours, but I didn’t say anything; I just let her cry.


    Then, finally, she pulled back. Her eyes were swollen, her lips trembling. She wiped her face, taking a deep breath.


    “I want them to pay,” she whispered.


    I nodded. “They will.”


    She swallowed, her throat bobbing. “I want them to suffer.”


    I cupped her face gently. “Then we’ll make them suffer.”


    “Tell me what you need,” I murmured.


    “I need you to help me destroy them.” A slow smile spread across my lips. I brushed a strand of hair from her face.


    “I was hoping you’d say that.”