Page 127 of Thorns of Deceit
“You’re not eating,” I said gently.
“Not hungry.”
“You said that yesterday.”
She didn’t answer, so I sat beside her, folding my hands in my lap. “I hate seeing you like this. Please, tell me how to help.”
Yes, I should be talking to her about her baby boy, but I couldn’t find the strength to see her shut down on me again.
“You went back to him.”
Her voice didn’t ring with accusation, but I felt it anyhow.
“I didn’t. I just recently ran into him and…”
I trailed off, unsure what to even say, but I knew I shouldn’t feel guilty. Aiden had helped me rescue her. He’d offered understanding even when I didn’t deserve it. Couldn’t she see that he was nothing like Duncan?
“For the past five years, ever since the day of the explosion,” I started slowly, “I’ve been hiding in plain sight, just like you told me to do. I used the money from Aiden and the papers from the P.O. box to leave the country. I was barely an adult, scared, terrified, and heartbroken. I thought you were dead.”
“I wasn’t, but I ensured Duncan thought you were.” Her voice was flat, emotionless. “I had to protect you.”
“But there was nobody to protect you,” I whispered.
“He was my sin, my mistake to endure and survive. You were innocent in all of it.”
A shudder rolled down my spine at the mere thought of what she’d endured over the past five years. It wasn’t fair, not after two decades of living on the run from that evil man.
“How did you survive the explosion?” I asked.
“After you escaped through the window, I ensured your ring was left behind and left out the front door.”
My eyes lowered to the same ring that had made it back to me and I rasped, “We should have run together. We should have kept each other safe. You should never have been subjected to him and his cruelty. If only…” My shoulders slumped, knowing there was no point to “if only” scenarios. She did what she thought was best.
“The guilt of leaving you behind ate at me every day,” I admitted, tears burning my eyes. But I wouldn’t cry. She was alive, and the bottom line was that my mom had saved my life.
“I knew your friends would be your support.” Her voice was low, her expression distant. “I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, we’ve been through thick and thin.”
“The money… Was it enough?” she questioned.
I nodded. “I got a job while attending university, and eventually started earning money from my paintings.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “I always knew you’d make it, baby.”
“But I hurt my husband.” My voice quivered. “He blamed himself for my death for five years. It was cruel.”
“You were too young,” she reasoned. “Maybe in hindsight it wasn’t fair, but you found a way back to him, so I guess it was meant to be.”
I struggled to find words or even make sense of all of this.
“Before the explosion, Aiden and I had started to grow close. He was thoughtful, unexpectedly kind… The kind of person whomade it easy to forget the world for a while. But after everything that happened, forgetting him was impossible. I felt adrift—lost in a sea of guilt and confusion—haunted by your death and the truth about his deceit. I buried it all as deep as I could, hoping that if I pushed it far enough down, it might stop hurting. But it never did.”
Mom stayed silent, her face calm, almost detached. But I caught the subtle gulp, the faint tremble in her lips, and the guilt pierced through me. I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting her. I was supposed to take care of her now.
“I’m sorry, Mom. You’ve sacrificed so much for me, and maybe you’re right. I was too young.” After all, didn’t Aiden say something along those same lines when we went out to dinner? He pointed out that our years of separation had allowed me to spread my wings. “And my friends were amazing. The whole experience of university was. I just wish I could have shared them with you. I just wish you were safe, not…”
She cupped my cheek, her touch gentle.
