Loveless Mother

Cracks in the Silence

I did not speak to her for the rest of the day.

Not because I want to punish her—though maybe part of me does—but because I don’t know how to speak without screaming. Without sobbing. Without falling apart.

So I stay in my room, door locked, letter still folded on my desk like it’s daring me to read it again.

I think about Lana’s voice. About the weight behind her words.

“Your father was mine before she took him.”

“Evelyn lied.”

The betrayal wasn’t just hers—it was mine too. A life I never got to live. A man I never got to know. Because someone decided for me.

By nightfall, the house is quiet. Too quiet. The kind that wraps around your chest and squeezes until you forget how to breathe.

I finally step into the hallway. Her door is cracked open. The light is off.

I knock anyway.

No answer.

I push the door gently. She’s sitting on the floor beside her bed, back against the wall, hugging her knees.

She doesn’t look up.

“You didn’t eat,” I say softly.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

I stand there a moment, then sit across from her. Our eyes meet in the shadows.

“I don’t hate you,” I whisper.

She closes her eyes. Her throat works, like she’s swallowing something sharp.

“I hated myself for so long,” she murmurs. “I thought if I gave you stability, safety… that would be enough to make up for everything else.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No.” She looks down. “It wasn’t.”

A long silence stretches between us.

Then: “Why didn’t you ever tell me his name?”

“Because names come with hope. And I didn’t want to give you any.”

The words sting, but at least they’re honest.

She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know where he is. I’ve tried to pretend he doesn’t exist anymore. But I never really stopped wondering.”

I ask what I’ve been holding in all day: “Did you ever love him?”

She hesitates.

“Yes,” she says finally. “But not the way he needed. And not the way I needed. We were a mistake that turned into something permanent.”

Her eyes meet mine.

“But you were never a mistake.”

For the first time, I believe her.

---

The next day, I call Lana.

She answers on the second ring.

“Ready for round two?” she says dryly.

“I want to meet him,” I say.

A pause. “Your father?”

“If he’s still out there.”

She exhales. “You might not like what you find.”

“I need to know.”

She’s quiet for a beat, then says, “Give me a week.”

“Why?”

“Because digging up the past takes time. And because I want to do it right.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay.”

When I hang up, I find Evelyn standing in the hallway.

“I heard,” she says.

I brace myself for a fight, but she just nods.

“If you find him,” she says quietly, “tell him… I’m sorry too.”

I search her face. For once, there’s no armor there. Just sorrow. And something like hope.

It scares me more than anything else.