TALE OF ALEXIA

FORGETTING THE MEMORIES

Florra's mind was a battlefield, torn between the haunting shadows of her past and the radiant hope of her daughter’s future. Each day was a struggle between memories she wished to forget and the light Alexia brought into her life. As she watched her daughter laugh—eyes crinkling with joy, spirit untouched by the truths still hidden—Florra's heart tightened with dread. That laughter, so pure and carefree, was a melody Florra feared would one day be silenced by the truth she hadn’t yet revealed.

She had spent years burying the wounds Princewill’s betrayal left behind, locking them in the deepest corners of her soul. But no matter how far she pushed them down, the past clawed its way back—sudden, sharp, suffocating. It loomed like a dark cloud, waiting to rain chaos on everything she had rebuilt. As Alexia’s thirteenth birthday approached, Florra could feel the storm drawing near.

Every part of her life, once filled with joy and shimmering with promise, now seemed tainted by the ghost of a love that had betrayed her. Princewill. His name lingered like a whisper in the wind, echoing through hollow memories—soft, haunting, inescapable. He was the shadow behind every door, the silence after laughter, the ache that never left. A reminder of what she had given, trusted, and lost.

Yet amidst the ruins of that shattered love stood something stronger than pain—Alexia. Her daughter. Her anchor. Her miracle. In Alexia’s eyes, Florra saw a new beginning. A second chance at love—not the romantic kind, but a love that healed and endured. Alexia was the flame in the darkness, the reason Florra got up each morning, the one truth she could hold on to.

The child, with her infectious laughter and eyes that sparkled like stars, was why Florra held on. In Alexia’s presence, the world seemed less cruel, less heavy. Each giggle, each question, each spontaneous hug was a lifeline, pulling Florra back from the edge when the past threatened to drag her under.

Alexia’s love was unlike any Florra had known—pure, untainted, untouched by betrayal. It didn’t ask for explanations, didn’t demand perfection. It simply existed, radiant and unwavering, wrapping Florra like a warm blanket on the coldest nights. In that love, she found healing. In that soul, she found redemption.

But the truth, buried deep within Florra’s heart, was about to surface. Alexia’s thirteenth birthday would force Florra to face the secrets she had long kept hidden. She had tried to protect her daughter from the ugliness of the past, but some truths couldn’t stay buried. The time had come to tell Alexia the story of her father—a man who had once sworn undying love but walked away when she needed him most.

Florra’s mind raced. What if Alexia hated her for keeping it hidden? What if the truth shattered their bond? She closed her eyes, heart pounding. She could already see Alexia’s face—confused, hurt, maybe angry. But there was no turning back. It was time to confront the ghosts of the past.

She couldn’t forget the night that changed everything. The night she believed in love again, surrendered herself to Princewill, trusted him. When the news of her pregnancy came, so did his true nature.

He denied her—denied the love, the promises, the dreams they shared. He erased their relationship with cold, heartless words. One moment, he was everything; the next, a ghost. He walked away without looking back, leaving Florra abandoned—with a child he refused to acknowledge. A child who would grow up without the love, guidance, or presence of a father.

The betrayal left a deep wound. Yet, somehow, Florra survived. She picked up the pieces with trembling hands—for Alexia. Every sacrifice, every sleepless night, every silent tear was for her. Alexia was her reason, her strength.

Now that Alexia was older, and the questions harder to avoid, a new fear gnawed at Florra’s soul. Would Alexia survive the truth?

Would it unravel everything they’d built? Could she see past the pain and understand the choices her mother made?

The silence that followed those questions was deafening.

Alexia often asked about her father—softly, hesitantly. “Mommy, where is he?” Her voice held wonder and a quiet ache. No anger—just the longing of a girl trying to piece together what felt missing. Her searching eyes always carried hope—that maybe, just maybe, her father would appear and love her like in the stories.

Florra always deflected. A gentle smile, a quick distraction. Behind every hug was a scream. Behind every smile, a wound. She simply hadn’t been ready. How could she say the man meant to love and protect them had walked away as if they never mattered?

That truth felt like a weight Alexia shouldn’t have to carry. So Florra waited, hoping time would give her strength. But as the questions grew more frequent, and Alexia’s eyes more knowing, Florra knew the moment was near.

The absence of a father had left its mark on Alexia. She coped, but the void remained. Florra saw it when her daughter watched other children with their fathers, the quiet longing in her eyes. Alexia didn’t speak of it much, but the silence said enough.

Still, Alexia never let that absence define her. She found strength in her mother’s love. She thrived—driven, bright, determined. Each victory was a reflection of Florra’s sacrifices. Love and encouragement had been enough to push her forward.

But Florra’s heart ached, knowing the truth lingered in the background. A shadow she couldn’t escape.

It would shatter Alexia’s carefully built world. The truth weighed heavy. How could she explain that the man they once dreamed of was a lie? How could she expose pain that shaped their lives?

Florra wasn’t just afraid of the pain Alexia would feel—she feared the distance it might create. And what if her daughter couldn’t forgive her?

But Florra knew they couldn’t continue like this. One day, Alexia would demand answers. And Florra would have to give them.

The night was quiet, save for Alexia’s soft breathing. Her daughter lay peaceful, unaware of the storm brewing. The silence, once comforting, now felt oppressive—a reminder of all Florra had kept hidden.

She was ready to face it. Ready to break the silence. The time had come.

But as she stood there, heart heavy with fear, Florra knew: once the words were spoken, nothing would be the same. The truth was irreversible.

She moved to the window, the night air brushing her skin as she stared into the darkness. She had always known this day would come. The questions had outgrown the stories. The time to speak had arrived.

With Alexia’s face glowing in the moonlight, Florra made a silent promise. No matter the pain, they would face the truth—together. It wouldn’t be easy. There would be anger, disbelief, heartbreak. But they had already survived the hardest part—betrayal, loneliness, silence.

They would survive this too.

Watching her daughter breathe peacefully, Florra whispered, “We’ll get through this. We’ll face it. Together.”