Daddy's Girl: Raised To Please Him

Chapter 18

Sydney was in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee, when her mother walked in, her expression unusually soft. It was the kind of look that immediately put Sydney on edge. Euri's face had always been a well-practiced mask—stoic, composed, untouchable.

But today, it was different. And Sydney didn't like it one bit.

"Good morning," Euri greeted, her voice uncharacteristically warm.

Sydney stiffened, gripping the mug tightly as she turned to face her mother. "Morning," she replied flatly, her tone colder than the tiled floor beneath her bare feet.

Euri sat down at the kitchen table, clasping her hands together like she was preparing for some kind of negotiation. "I spoke with Lia last night," she began. "I asked her to come because... I've been worried about you."

Sydney froze, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She set it down carefully, her jaw tightening. "Worried about me?" she repeated, her voice laced with sarcasm. "That's rich."

"Right," Sydney said with a bitter laugh.

"Sydney, I know what you've been through. The traumas... they're not easy to carry. I thought having Lia here might help. Someone who understands you, someone you trust."

Sydney snorted, shaking her head. "Right," she said bitterly. "Because you care so much about my well-being now?"

Her mother's expression tightened, but she pressed on, her voice softer, more earnest. "I've always cared. You might not see it, but I do. That's why I'm saying this—you need help. Real help. Maybe you should consider going back to therapy again."

Sydney's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening around her coffee mug. "Therapy?" she repeated, her voice rising with disbelief. "You're suggesting therapy now? After how you reacted when you found out I was seeing one?"

Euri flinched, her words faltering for a moment before she responded. "Sydney, I know I didn't handle it well before, but I was wrong. I... I didn't understand. I was scared."

"Scared?" Sydney's voice cracked with a harsh laugh. "You were scared of me getting help. You said I was weak for needing someone to talk to... and it'll ruin your reputation."

Euri's face softened, and she lowered her gaze, shame flickering in her eyes. "I was wrong. I see that now. But what I'm saying is, I want to help you. For real this time."

Sydney stared at her mother, her chest tight with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Help? Do you think a few words now can make up for all the years of neglect? For abandoning me when I was kidnapped?! I heard everything you said! you want my corpse right?!"

Euri's calm demeanor faltered, her lips pressing into a thin line "I-I...."

"I don't need you to try fixing me now," Sydney said sharply. "I don't even know why I'm still here... after all, you never want me."

"That's not true... Sydney," she said quietly. "I know I haven't always been the mother you needed, but—"

"Stop," Sydney snapped, cutting her off. "Just stop. Don't pretend like you're some saint now. You've spent my entire life keeping me at arm's length, and now you suddenly care? What changed, Mom?"

The word felt foreign on her tongue—Mom. She rarely used it, and it hung in the air like an accusation.

Euri's expression wavered, guilt flickering in her eyes. She looked away for a moment, her hands tightening into fists on the table. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, heavier. "You're right. I wasn't there for you the way I should've been. But you don't understand why."

Sydney crossed her arms, her glare unwavering. "Then make me understand."

There was a long silence, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. Finally, Euri looked up, and there was something raw in her gaze—something Sydney had never seen before.

"Your biological mother and I... we were once friends," Euri began, her voice steady but tinged with an edge of bitterness. "Close friends. We grew up together, almost like sisters. We shared everything—or at least, I thought we did."

Sydney's breath hitched, but she didn't interrupt.

"And then..." Euri hesitated, her jaw tightening as if the words physically pained her. "We fell in love with the same man. Your father."

The room seemed to tilt, the weight of the revelation crashing down on Sydney.

"She betrayed me," Euri continued, her voice colder now, the bitterness seeping through. "She knew how much he meant to me, and yet she..." Her voice faltered, and she shook her head. "She had you with him. I was furious. Devastated. She broke my trust in a way I never thought possible."

Sydney's mouth went dry, her hands trembling slightly. "So... what? You took me in out of spite?"

"No," Euri said firmly, her gaze locking onto Sydney's. "I was angry, yes. But your mother... she was still my friend. Despite everything, she was like a sister to me. And when she..." Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath. "When she died, I couldn't just abandon you... So I tried to look for your father even if it gave me pain, but he died a long time ago from cancer... So I decided to take you in because I couldn't let you be alone... But every time I looked at you, I saw her. I saw him. And I hated myself for it."

Sydney's heart twisted painfully in her chest. "So you kept me at a distance," she said bitterly. "Because you were too scared..."

Euri flinched, but she didn't deny it. "Yes, I was scared... to love you" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was afraid. Afraid that if I let myself love you, I'd forget the betrayal. Forget the pain. And that felt... wrong."

Sydney's vision blurred with unshed tears, her emotions a chaotic storm inside her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out. But instead, she stood there, frozen in place, her mother's words echoing in her head.

"I didn't ask for this," she said finally, her voice trembling. "I didn't ask to be a reminder of your pain. I didn't ask to be your responsibility. But you chose this. You chose me. And you've spent my entire life punishing me for something I had no control over."

Euri's face crumpled, and for the first time, Sydney saw genuine regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I failed you, Sydney. And I can't change the past. But I want to try. I want to be better—for you."

Sydney laughed bitterly, wiping at her eyes. "It's too late for that... I've had enough."

She turned on her heel, walking out of the kitchen before her mother could say anything else. Her heart felt heavy, her mind racing with everything she'd just learned.

As she climbed the stairs to her room, her legs felt like lead, and her chest ached with a mixture of anger and sadness. She didn't know how to process it all—her mother's confession, her own tangled emotions.

She pushed the door to her room open, the familiar sound of it creaking in the quiet room only amplifying the turmoil inside her. She let the door close softly behind her, leaning against it for a moment as if the weight of her mother's words had physically pushed her down. Her heart was pounding, her chest tight with emotions that refused to stay contained.

The tears that had been threatening to break free for so long finally came, hot and fierce, as she sank down onto her bed. Her hands shook as they clutched the sheets beneath her, her whole body trembling with the overwhelming force of everything she had just learned.

She had always known there was something fractured about her relationship with Euri. But this... this was something she hadn't been prepared for. To learn that she had taken her in not out of love, but out of guilt—out of a fear of forgetting the betrayal of her best friend, Sydney's biological mother. To hear that she had kept her at a distance because loving her would have meant letting go of the pain, of the rage that had built up in her for years.

The irony of it hit her like a slap. Euri had kept her distance to avoid the hurt, and in doing so, had only deepened the wound. Sydney had spent her whole life feeling like she wasn't wanted, wasn't loved, and now, she understood why.

She had never been wanted—not by Euri, not by her biological parents, not by anyone. She had been an obligation, a burden, a constant reminder of something her mother couldn't let go of. And in the end, that's all she had ever been to anyone: a ghost of their past mistakes.

The tears flowed faster now, streaking down her face, soaking into the pillow she had buried her head into. The room felt smaller somehow, suffocating as if the walls were closing in around her. She pressed her face into the fabric, trying to quiet the sobs, but they just kept coming—louder, harder, more desperate.

Why had she bothered hoping for more? For something she had never been given. Why had she thought that her mother might one day be able to love her, when she hadn't even been able to love herself enough to do so?

All those years, Sydney had held onto the hope that one day, Euri would see her—really see her—and finally offer the love and warmth she had been so desperately craving. But it had never come. And now, learning the truth, she felt foolish for ever thinking it might.

She could feel the ache deep inside her, a gnawing emptiness that she couldn't escape. The tears only seemed to make it worse, filling the hollow space inside her until there was no more room for anything else. It was like her heart had cracked open, and no matter how much she cried, it would never fully heal.

And yet, even as she lay there in the crushing silence, something inside her stirred—a quiet, fragile thought.

Yes, she was a product of their mistakes, of their failures. But she wasn't a ghost, trapped in their pain.

With a ragged breath, Sydney pushed herself up, wiping the last of her tears away. The room was still thick with the weight of her grief, but there was something else there too—something that felt almost like defiance. The past had shaped her, but it didn't have to rule her.

The days passed in a haze of conflicting emotions, each moment spent with Euri feeling like a fragile thread in the middle of a storm. Sydney didn't know what to make of it.

Her mother, for the first time, was trying—trying to be there for her, trying to show her care, trying to make up for the years lost. It was as if a door had been opened, one Sydney had never thought would be, and yet, despite the warmth that Euri now offered, Sydney found herself recoiling.

The more her mother reached out, the more she felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice.

Sydney hadn't expected this.

She hadn't expected her mother to try so hard to be there for her now, not after everything they had been through. It made her uneasy. It made her scared, what if she forgave her? And what would happen next? she will break her as her biological parents did?

How could she forgive Euri when Sydney had been the one to betray her so deeply too? The thought of it twisted something inside of her. Every word of kindness from Euri, every gesture, felt like a dagger in her chest, driving deeper into the wound Sydney had created years ago.

She had been the one who crossed the line, the one who had a forbidden relationship with her mother's husband.

That's what Sydney had done. She had taken something precious from Euri—her husband, her love—and destroyed her in the most heart-wrenching way.

That was the truth Sydney had to live with when she decided to let him into her.

And now, here she was, her mother reaching out to her, offering forgiveness, trying to build something that was never supposed to be. Sydney was afraid to accept it, afraid to believe it, afraid to trust that it was genuine. But worse—she was terrified to forgive Euri.

To turn to be the only one in the wrong.

Her own mother. The woman who had taken her in raised her. How could she allow herself to be loved by her while f*****g her man?

She's now in denial stage... 'How could she trust that what Euri was offering now wasn't just an attempt to fill the void left by that betrayal?'

Or What if this is just another illusion? What if everything was just a lie? A way for Euri to make her feel guilty, to manipulate her into feeling like she could be redeemed for her mistakes?

The pain of that thought was almost unbearable.

She found herself staring at the letter Euri had left for her that morning, the soft words written in her familiar, elegant handwriting: I know I've hurt you, but I'm here now. Let's try, together.

How could Sydney ever believe it? How could she ever believe that love could come from the woman she had betrayed so horribly behind her back?

She didn't know the answer. The only thing she knew was that she was drowning in the fear that if she let herself forgive Euri if she let herself believe in her, she would be trapped. Trapped in the guilt, trapped by the weight of what she had done. How could she ever trust herself to be worthy of the love her mother was now offering when she had been the one to ruin it all now?

As the days passed, the weight of her thoughts grew heavier. Every gesture of kindness from Euri made Sydney flinch, pulling her deeper into a swirling confusion she couldn't escape. She was terrified of getting too close, of allowing herself to feel something she wasn't sure she deserved. What if this newfound kindness wasn't the answer she needed? What if it only made things worse?

But it wasn't just the fear of forgiveness that gripped her; it was the fear of her own emotions. What if she didn't regret the affair anymore? What if, in the end, the feelings she had felt for Alan hadn't been a fleeting mistake, but something real? Something she could never take back? How could she ever ask for forgiveness when she wasn't sure if she regretted her actions when she wasn't sure if she even felt sorry for what she had done?

Her heart ached at the thought, a gnawing dread in her chest. She feared the truth— How could she look Euri in the eye again knowing that? How could she face herself, knowing she'd betrayed not only her but also her own conscience?

Sydney sank into the chair in her room, staring blankly at the paper in front of her. Her hands shook as her thoughts spiraled deeper, her mind a tangled mess of guilt, fear, and confusion. How could she ever forgive herself when she wasn't even sure she was truly sorry?

I'm not even sure if I regret it... he became a beautiful mistake... And I'm scared of feeling this way.

The silence in the room felt suffocating, and Sydney's chest tightened with every passing second. The storm of emotions inside her felt like it was tearing her apart. But at that moment, the only question that lingered in the quiet was the one she couldn't answer.

'What if it's not just my desire who speaks... but my heart? would he feel the same?'