Mother, I Was Wrong

Her daughter was so haggard and weak, swaying as if she were on the verge of death.

Nadi was in immense pain. Even though she was suffering so much, she kept apologizing to her mother repeatedly.

But Nadi had done nothing wrong at all!

Fatimah's mind kept replaying the phone call she had received two hours ago.

It was from an unknown number. The person on the other end, his voice altered by a voice changer, told her cold-heartedly that she wasn't sent to the sanatorium by Nadi for treatment. Instead, Adi had locked her up as a bargaining chip to threaten Nadi.

Nadi's hands were damaged beyond repair. She would never be able to hold a paintbrush again.

Nadi had knelt down countless times, been slapped numerous times, and now her ear was injured as well.

Nadi had been reduced to a plaything, a mere vessel for bearing a child whose purpose was to cure the illness of Aisha's child, the one responsible for all this!