chapter 22

Kara's lips trembled as the first sob escaped, catching even her by surprise. She had locked so much inside for so long, believing tears were a sign of weakness. But now, before this woman she had resented and tormented, she broke—completely and unexpectedly. Her body folded in on itself as the dam burst.

Jane stood frozen, her heart aching at the rawness in front of her. Of all things, she had not expected this from Kara—the fiery, unapologetic girl who wielded words like daggers and treated everyone like pawns in her personal war against the world. But now, Kara wasn't that girl. She was just a broken child still searching for something that had been stolen too soon.

"No one loves me," Kara wept. "Not even him. He's sending me away. No one wants me around."

Jane knelt beside her slowly, unsure if she would be pushed away again. But Kara didn't move. Her fingers curled into fists as she leaned on her knees, gasping through the wave of emotions.

"That's not true," Jane said softly. "You're loved, Kara. Your father—he treasures you. That's why he wants to help you, even if it means doing something you don't like. And I'm sure your mother… wherever she is… she must think of you every day."

At the mention of her mother, Kara didn't erupt like before. Her sobbing slowed, and for once, her eyes didn't narrow with hatred or rage.

"Then why did she leave us?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "Why did they abandon me and my brother if they didn't hate us?"

Jane felt her throat tighten, her own eyes burning with unshed tears. So many years… so many unspoken regrets… and now, those words were being spoken to her by the very child she'd lost.

"Things happen, my dear," Jane whispered, her voice shaking. "Sometimes life forces people into cruel choices. Maybe they're not at peace either—maybe your parents have suffered just like you. Maybe they're still looking for you, still hoping for a chance to make things right."

Kara turned her face away, struggling with the new emotions clawing their way to the surface. She had never thought that maybe—just maybe—her parents hadn't wanted to abandon her.

"You should never judge someone without knowing their side of the story," Jane added gently.

Kara stared at Jane, the lines of her face, the gentleness in her voice, the calm that came from pain—real, raw pain. For the first time, Kara looked at her not as a servant or an enemy, but as a woman… a mother… someone who had lived through a loss far worse than she could ever imagine.

"Why are you speaking up for them?" Kara asked, her voice low and suspicious, the remnants of old walls still holding on. "Do you even know what it's like to be left behind? To be unloved?"

Jane looked her straight in the eye, her voice unwavering. "I'm not defending anyone, Kara. I'm just… telling you the truth. I'm also a victim. I lost my children—when they were still infants. I've never stopped looking for them. Not for a single day."

Kara blinked, taken aback. The room suddenly felt colder, smaller. Her lips parted in disbelief.

"You… lost children?"

Jane nodded slowly, her fingers tightening slightly on her lap as if holding back the flood of emotion.

"My family didn't want me to keep them. I refused to give them up, but… they were taken from me anyway. When I woke up, they were gone. Handed over to a children's home, but I was never told where. I tried everything. Every job. Every street. And even after all these years, I still hope for a reunion someday."

Silence. Thick, stinging silence.

Kara's mouth moved before the words came out. "Are you… not mad? At the people who did that to you? Don't you hate them?"

Jane smiled softly, but it was a broken, tired kind of smile. "I was mad. So angry I couldn't breathe. I carried it with me like armor. But bitterness… it eats you from the inside. I realized it was turning me into someone I didn't recognize. I couldn't let that happen. So I let go. Not because they deserved it, but because I deserved peace. And now… I keep moving. Keep searching. That's all I can do."

Kara felt something stir in her chest—a strange, aching stillness. She wasn't the only one. All this time, she had believed her pain was singular, her grief unmatched. But here was this woman, quiet and soft-spoken, with wounds that ran just as deep… yet still walking, still smiling, still loving.

Suddenly, her rage didn't feel so unique.

Kara sat back, her thoughts loud and spinning, her fingers trembling slightly on her knees. She didn't speak, but she didn't have to. The silence between them spoke volumes—two broken hearts, two different paths, somehow meeting in this one moment of fragile honesty.

Kara's eyes flared with intensity, the tears on her cheeks already drying as if ashamed of their betrayal.

It was as if something had snapped back into place—her pride, her armor, her need for control.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Her voice, once trembling with emotion, was now cold and sharp. "Don't think… that because of your pitiful story I'm going to suddenly like you. I still don't want you here."

Jane didn't flinch. She had seen this before. Pain wearing the mask of pride. Fear disguised as hatred.

She gave a small nod, her gaze soft, but steady. "That's okay," she said gently, like a mother speaking to a child throwing a tantrum not out of malice, but out of hurt.

She turned to walk out, but paused at the door. "At least eat your food," she said over her shoulder, her voice quiet but firm. "You'll feel stronger with something in your stomach."

And with that, she left.

Kara stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, her fists clenched. Her mind screamed that she had regained control—but deep inside, something new was stirring.

Something… unfamiliar.

Her eyes fell on the untouched tray of food by her bedside. She hadn't eaten in over a day. Hunger and confusion warred inside her, but she ignored both.

Why did her eyes look like mine?Why did her voice calm me when nothing else ever has?

She shook the thoughts away, furious at herself for even entertaining them. But the silence in the room grew heavy again, like the weight of unspoken truths just waiting to be unearthed.

She walked to the window and looked out at the fading sun. Her chest ached, but not from anger. From something else.