Chapter 6
Two weeks later, Mom sent a short, plain text. No yelling. No accusations.
I’m sorry. I’m starting therapy. I’ll respect your space.
I showed it to Lila. “What do you think?”
She thought for a long time. “It’s a start. But we can’t rush anything. Not until we’re sure.”
I agreed. I replied simply: Thank you. We’ll take time.
Life settled into a gentle rhythm. I worked from home more to be close to her.
We took slow walks in the park. We bought tiny socks and soft blankets.
Then came the family gathering for my grandfather’s birthday.
Lila hesitated. “What if she’s there? What if they say things?”
“I’ll be right beside you. Every second,” I promised.
When we arrived, the room went quiet for a moment.
Mom stood near the kitchen. She looked thinner. She looked at us, then looked down at her plate.
No one shouted. No one made scenes.
Aunt Sarah waved us over. Cousins we hadn’t seen in months greeted us warmly.
Later, when I went to get water, Mom stepped into the hallway beside me.
“I haven’t tried to contact you again,” she said quietly. “I’m learning to let go. To let you build your own life.”
“Thank you,” I said. It was all I could say.
She nodded. “I hope one day… I hope one day I can meet my grandchild properly. But I’ll wait as long as you need.”
She walked away before I could answer.
May you like
When I got back to Lila, I told her what had happened. She squeezed my hand.
“One day,” she said softly. “Maybe one day.”
