Words That Cut Deeper Than Bruises

Sumaya hesitated before sliding onto the stool, adjusting her backpack as she poked at her food. But she wasn't really hungry. Her appetite had been swallowed whole by the tension that thickened the air between her and her mother. Instead, her eyes lingered on Avanya.

She looked… different.

Her mother had always been a force of nature—resilient, warm, full of life, no matter what storms they had weathered. But now? Now, she looked hollow. The light in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion so deep it clung to her like a second skin. Dark circles marred her once-bright complexion, and the lines of stress carved into her face made her look far older than she was.

When Avanya turned to grab something from the counter, she caught Sumaya's gaze—eyes brimming with unshed tears, filled with concern and something dangerously close to desperation.

"Maya, what's wrong? What's with those looks?"

Sumaya clenched her fists on her lap, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn't keep quiet anymore. Not this time.

"Mom, why can't we just leave him?" The words sliced through the air like a dagger, sharp and unforgiving.

Avanya's entire body stiffened. Her hand froze mid-motion before she quickly turned back toward the stove, her back now to her daughter.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice tight, but the slight tremble betrayed her.

Sumaya's heart clenched painfully. She had hoped—prayed—that this time her mother would listen. That she would finally see reason. That she would admit the truth. But instead, she was retreating again, hiding behind that same suffocating silence.

"Mom, he beats you over the smallest things. He has anger issues, and it's obvious he resents the fact that you had a child that isn't his. We can't keep living like this." Sumaya's voice wavered, but the frustration was undeniable.

Avanya finally turned, and for a fleeting moment, Sumaya thought—hoped—she would see recognition in her mother's eyes. That she would finally say, You're right, let's leave.

But all she got was a blank, unreadable expression. "Eat up."

Sumaya's jaw clenched. That was it? That was all she had to say? Eat up? Like none of this mattered? Like she hadn't just confessed the unbearable?

She couldn't take it anymore. Her mother always did this—always ignored the fights, always pretended nothing happened, always acted like the bruises weren't there.

"Mom, I know you're not happy—"

"Drop it, Sumaya!" Avanya's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and merciless.

Sumaya flinched but refused to back down. "Mom, please. You have to do something about him. He is—"

"I know you never liked him in the first place, and now you're just looking for an excuse to make me leave my marriage!"

Avanya's voice rose, her face twisting in a mixture of anger and something deeper—something raw, something desperate.

Sumaya's breath hitched. "That's not true, Mom!" she sobbed.

"Isn't it?" Avanya snapped. "You've always resented him. You've been waiting for the day I would walk away, haven't you?"

Sumaya shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Mom, I don't hate him. I don't want to destroy your marriage. I just—" her voice broke, a sob catching in her throat, "I just want you to be happy. You deserve better than this. No man should ever—"

"I said drop it!" Avanya's voice lashed out again, cutting through Sumaya's words like a blade.

Sumaya clenched her fists. What is it with this woman and cutting me off? she thought bitterly.

Her mother inhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temple as if trying to steady herself.

"I have had enough of your tantrums," she hissed. "You need to start talking about Jae with respect. He's your dad—"

"He's not my dad!" Sumaya shot back, her voice cracking as she startled even herself with the force of her words.

A flicker of shock crossed her mother's face, but Sumaya didn't care. If her mother could shut her down, then so could she.

"For goodness' sake, Maya, stop being so ungrateful. Jae is the one providing for you, making sure you have food, clothes, an education. The only thing he asks for in return is some respect!"

"That's not fair!" Sumaya sobbed, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. Why was her mother talking as if she had chosen this? As if she had begged to be adopted? All she had ever wanted was for her mother to be happy.

Avanya let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Newsflash, Maya: nothing in this world is fair. At least you have a roof over your head. You eat when you're hungry. You get the best education we can afford. Most kids you know aren't that privileged."

Sumaya stared at her mother, wide-eyed. "Who are you?" she whispered. "What have you done with my mother?"

She had thought her father was the only monster in this house. But maybe, just maybe, her mother was becoming one too.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, hot and relentless. She wanted to scream, to shake her mother, to make her see reason.

But then—

"If you weren't here, maybe all of this wouldn't be happening."

The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit Sumaya like a hurricane. Her breath caught in her throat. A ringing filled her ears.

She knew her mother hadn't meant for her to hear that. It had been a slip of the tongue. A whisper of frustration.

But Sumaya had heard it. And it hurt. It hurt more than the slap her father had given her last night. More than when Amanda pushed her from the school stairs. "Mom…?" she whimpered.

But Avanya didn't turn. Didn't flinch. Neither did she apologize. "Just go to school, Maya. I'm tired," her voice was flat. Emotionless.

Sumaya's vision blurred as she grabbed her bag from the stool and stumbled toward the door. Her fingers curled around the handle, her grip tightening for a moment—just a moment—before she yanked it open and slammed it shut behind her.

She didn't stop walking. Didn't stop crying. Didn't stop thinking. Her mother's words echoed in her mind, relentless and cruel, like a broken record she couldn't silence.

"If you weren't here, maybe none of this would be happening."

Did she mean it? Did she really think Sumaya was the reason, her father was like this? That all of it—his anger, his fists, the bruises—was somehow her fault?

Sumaya clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she walked with her head down, hood pulled over her face. The ache in her chest deepened, clawing at her insides with every step, pressing against her ribs like an unbearable weight.

→→→→→→→

Marrok stepped out of the secluded manor nestled beneath a dense canopy of foliage, Ulva clinging to his arm, her delicate fingers curled around his sleeve. Behind them, Raul locked the front door with a quiet click before turning to join them. The three moved toward the lone car parked in the driveway, the crisp morning air laced with a lingering chill.

Suddenly—Marrok stopped. His breath hitched as his free hand shot to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if trying to grasp something unseen. His entire body tensed.

Ulva and Raul froze. "What is it, Marrok?" they asked in unison, their voices edged with concern.

Marrok's head lifted slowly, his expression contorted with confusion, frustration—pain. A single tear slipped down his cheek, then another, trailing a silent path over his skin.

Ulva's grip tightened on his arm. "Marrok?" she whispered, alarm creeping into her tone.

Raul took a cautious step closer. "Again?"