Chapter 6
These seemingly worthless, tarnished pieces were actually rare antiques worth approximately $80 million.[]
I pinched myself hard, convinced I must be dreaming.[]
I had cared for my mother for over a decade, and never once had she hinted at the true value of these heirlooms.]]
With trembling hands, I picked up a blackened antique ring, a tidal wave of complex emotions washing over me–shock, guilt, regret, and an inexplicable warmth I couldn’t name.[]
“Mom… you were looking out for me all along…” I whispered, tears flowing freely down my cheeks.[]
In that moment, I understood that my mother hadn’t failed to love me–she had simply loved me in a way I couldn’t recognize. []
She had hidden all her affection behind that cold facade, silently preparing this incredible gift.[]
My tears wouldn’t stop.]
I finally understood that my mother’s love had always been there. I just hadn’t seen it.[]
When I returned home, I told my husband, Michael, everything.]
After listening, he gently wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Emma,” he said softly, “I think your mom always loved you deeply. She just didn’t know how to show it.“[]
I leaned into his embrace, tears flowing uncontrollably.[]
“I know… I finally understand now…“]
Suddenly, memories began flooding back.[]
Once, I’d returned early from a business trip to find my mother sitting alone on the balcony, holding a faded sweater in her hands, silent tears falling down her cheeks.]
It was the sweater she’d knitted for me during my freshman year of college, with noticeable mistakes around the collar where she’d dropped stitches.]
I stood in the doorway, watching as sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting dappled shadows across her figure.]
The memory crystallized–that winter had been exceptionally cold, and Mom would knit late into the night, waiting for me to return from evening study sessions. I remembered dismissing that sweater as old–fashioned, wearing it only once before burying it at the bottom of my closet.]]
Perhaps that had been her way of missing me.]
Another time, after I’d spent a month working late nights on a major presentation, leaving my voice hoarse and ragged, Mom had remembered.]]
The next morning, familiar aromas drifted from the kitchen.]]
C
Chapter 6
On the stove simmered my favorite Oatmeal.[]
Mom stood with her back to me, frying an egg, the strings of her apron coming undone without her noticing.[]
All those details I’d dismissed suddenly took on new meaning.]
Though she constantly complained about my messy room, whenever I returned from trips, my clothes would be neatly folded into perfect squares. She’d lecture me about the unhealthiness of takeout, yet the freezer was always stocked with my favorite dishes. Even authors I’d casually mentioned liking would mysteriously appear as new releases on the coffee table before my next visit…]
Fresh tears fell as these realizations washed over me.]]
“But I still don’t understand,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Why did she act like she favored Jason so much?“]
Michael set down his coffee cup and gazed thoughtfully out the window before answering.
“Maybe that was her intention all along–she was protecting you,” he said slowly.[]
He turned to face me, his expression gentle but certain. “Think about it: Mom publicly gave the house and savings to Jason, making everyone believe she favored her son. But in reality, she left you this fortune and kept it secret from him.“]
His voice grew quieter. “What if she was afraid that if Jason knew, he would try to take it from you?“]]
This insight struck like lightning through my confused thoughts.[]
Suddenly, I recalled countless overlooked moments–how whenever Jason came asking for money, Mom would give it freely in front of me, but would later slip me a small envelope when we were alone.]
Whenever Jason would boast about his latest expensive purchase, Mom would meaningfully tell me: “A woman must always save her own money. Never depend on anyone else.“[]
The floodgates of memory burst open.[]
I remembered how after college graduation, Mom had insisted I move into my own apartment, leaving me crying all night from what felt like rejection.]
Now I understood–she was forcing me to become independent.[]
And that time I received a promotion and raise, when Mom had merely offered a disinterested “hmm” but I later caught her wiping away tears in the kitchen, claiming she’d been “cutting onions.”
“So all that coldness… all that favoritism… it was an act?” My voice cracked with emotion.[]
Michael nodded gently.]
The tears flowed uncontrollably now.
My mother hadn’t failed to love me after all–she had used her own awkward, imperfect way to teach me how to protect myself in a world that often favors sons over daughters.[]
All those seemingly preferential acts toward my brother had actually been building protective walls around me.[]
– Mann Good Could You Love Me Now?
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All those cold words and harsh lessons had been bitter medicine to make me stronger.[]
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