she had done something terrible.
By ten, I had convinced myself that perhaps she simply hadn’t loved me enough to stay.
Every time I brought her up, my father would become quiet before changing the subject.
“You’re better off without her,” he would say.
I learned not to push.
But that didn’t mean I stopped wondering.
At school, I watched other children run toward their mothers after performances. I saw them holding hands during field trips, laughing together at the school gates, and sitting side by side during parent-teacher meetings.
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