my Mother, my boyfriend

Chapter One:my daughter The first thing Evelyn loved about her daughter was her eyes. Not because they were beautiful—though they were—but because they looked at her as if she were the entire world. Tiny fingers curled around hers in the hospital room while the rain tapped softly against the windows. Nurses moved in and out with tired smiles, but Evelyn barely noticed them. She only stared at the little baby sleeping against her chest. “Lia,” she whispered. The child stirred slightly at the sound of her name. David stood beside the bed, exhausted but happy, rubbing his wife’s shoulder gently. “She has your eyes,” he said. Evelyn smiled faintly. “No,” she murmured. “She’s mine.” At first, it sounded harmless. Motherhood consumed Evelyn completely. Every photograph in the house became Lia’s photograph. Every conversation returned to Lia. Every hour of Evelyn’s life bent itself around the child like gravity. When Lia laughed, Evelyn cried. When Lia took her first steps, Evelyn filmed it three times and replayed it every night before sleeping. When Lia started school, Evelyn sat outside the classroom in her car for nearly two hours because she suddenly couldn’t stand the silence at home. David noticed it long before anyone else did. The attachment. The intensity. The way Evelyn looked at Lia sometimes—not as a mother admiring her child, but as if the girl were the only thing keeping her alive. “Evelyn,” he once said carefully, “you need to let her breathe a little.” The smile on her face disappeared instantly. “She’s my daughter.” “She’s also her own person.” That sentence started their first real fight. After that, things slowly became worse. Evelyn hated when Lia spent too much time with friends. She hated when David took Lia out alone. She hated school events where teachers praised other children more than her daughter. Every tiny thing felt like someone stealing Lia away from her piece by piece. By the time Lia turned ten, the house no longer felt warm. It felt tense. Arguments echoed through the walls almost every night. “You’re obsessed with her!” David shouted one evening. Evelyn’s face hardened instantly. “You say that like it’s disgusting.” “She’s a child, Evelyn!” “She’s MY child!” Lia heard the screaming from upstairs, hugging her pillow tightly while tears slid silently down her cheeks. The next morning, nobody spoke during breakfast. The sound of spoons against plates felt louder than usual. David looked exhausted. Evelyn looked empty. Then suddenly— “You poisoned her against me,” Evelyn said quietly. David looked up sharply. “What?” “You keep trying to take her away from me.” “For God’s sake, Evelyn—” The plate shattered against the wall. Lia flinched violently. Silence filled the dining room. Evelyn breathed heavily, staring at David with watery eyes. Then she turned toward Lia. For a moment, her expression softened completely. Beautifully. Terrifyingly. Evelyn walked over and knelt in front of her daughter, gently fixing the child’s messy hair. “You love Mommy, don’t you?” she whispered. Lia nodded nervously. Evelyn smiled as though that answer meant everything. That night, David locked their bedroom door during another argument. Lia stayed awake under her blanket, listening to muffled yelling downstairs until— The front door slammed. The house became quiet. Too quiet. The next morning, Evelyn was gone. No goodbye. No note. Nothing. Only the faint scent of her perfume still lingering in the hallway like a ghost that refused to leave.