Chapter 1: A Mother's Love and a Father's Betrayal
Alina's POV, 8 Years Ago
My mother and I sat quietly in the dimly lit dining room, the silence between us heavy and oppressive. She had been crying all day, her face streaked with tears, though she did her best to hide it. I could feel the weight of her sorrow, the unspoken pain that hung in the air. Outside, the sun had long set, and the cold evening air seeped into the house, making everything feel colder.
"Go to bed, Ali," my mother whispered softly, her voice strained. She didn’t want me to witness what was about to happen, but I knew better. My father’s return was always a cause for unease, a prelude to something I never wanted to see.
I did as she said, shuffling quietly to my room, though I couldn’t bring myself to close the door all the way. I left it slightly ajar, just enough to watch and hear, to understand the truth that lay beyond the walls of our home.
The sound of tires crunching on gravel reached my ears. My heart skipped a beat. He was home.
The door slammed open, and my father walked in, followed closely by a woman who clung to his arm like a parasite. My mother’s face fell, but she stayed still, her posture tense, as if preparing for what was to come. I watched, heart racing, as my father, tall and imposing, glared at her with a look of disgust.
"What are you doing here? Haven’t I told you to stay out of my sight?" he spat, his voice cold and sharp.
"I was waiting for you... I was worried..." My mother’s voice trembled as she spoke, but she held her ground.
Before she could say another word, my father kicked her hard. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her fall to the floor, clutching her stomach, struggling to keep from crying out.
"I’ve told you a hundred times—stay away from me. You and that little brat," he sneered, pointing toward my room, "stay the hell out of my sight."
With a final, cruel glance, he turned on his heel and stormed off to his room, the woman following closely behind, her eyes filled with a malicious satisfaction.
I rushed to my mother’s side, my hands shaking as I helped her to sit up. "Why does he hate us, Mom?" I whispered, my voice breaking.
She smiled, though her eyes betrayed the pain she felt. "It’s not like that, Ali. He was just drunk... It’ll be alright."
But I knew it wasn’t just the alcohol. It wasn’t just the drinking that made him cruel. It was something deeper, something that had always been there.
That night, my mother held me close as we lay in bed. Her warmth was the only comfort I had, and I clung to it. She kissed my forehead gently, her voice soft despite the sorrow in her eyes. "I love you, Ali. Never forget that. You’re never alone. I’ll always be here for you."
"Why can’t Dad be like other fathers?" I asked quietly, my voice small and fragile.
She chuckled softly, though it was tinged with sadness. "One day, a handsome prince will come and take you away from here, and he will love you more than anyone ever could."
"No, Mom," I replied firmly, shaking my head. "I’ll never marry a rich man. They’re all the same—heartless monsters."
My mother gasped in surprise, then smiled softly, though there was sadness behind her eyes. "Not all of them, Ali. Some are good... but some aren’t as good as they should be."
I drifted off to sleep in her arms that night, her words lingering in my mind like a faint hope. But that hope shattered when my mother’s health began to decline. Day by day, she grew weaker, her once vibrant smile fading, her warmth slipping away.
And then, one cold morning, she was gone.
Alone.
That’s how I became. Alone in a world that had no place for me. No one cared. No one loved me. My father, indifferent as ever, married the woman he had been with that night. And just like that, my life took a turn for the worse.
She had a daughter, and my father loved her like his own. To him, I was nothing more than a servant. My place in the house was clear—I cooked, I cleaned, I did everything to maintain the facade of a happy home. I had no choice.
At least he allowed me to finish my schooling, and that was something I clung to.
When I turned 18, I made a promise to myself. I would leave this house. I would find a job and finally see the world. I would live my life on my own terms. Maybe, just maybe, I could find some happiness.
But little did I know, my life was about to change in ways I could never have imagined.
