I never call anyone that lightly.
Once I say it, it means I’ve given my heart away.
Eight years ago, when I first met Marielle, my eyes burned with tears. Almost instinctively, I called her “Mom.”
Back then, I was cautious yet full of hope, treating this long-lost mother as my entire world.
But in the end, it was nothing more than wishful thinking on my part.
She never cherished me as her daughter.
That’s why, after I was released from prison, I never called her “Mom” again.
That single word—“Mom”—finally made Aunt Lydia lose control completely.
Her tears could no longer be held back, rolling down her cheeks.
And Marielle—
Her body jolted violently.
That gentle yet solemn “Mom,” filled with longing and attachment, made her mistake, for just a moment, that I was calling her.
She
