Blood Wasn't Thicker Than Water All the Time

Hazel's POV

As such, to make sure I never mixed up the two “moms” again, Colin even made rules for me. If I answered to the wrong one, he would cut my monthly allowance.

I still remember the first time I heard him call Agnes “my Mom” in that sweet, affectionate tone. Her smile bloomed like a late autumn chrysanthemum.

When Colin saw me staring at him in disbelief, he reluctantly turned to me and forced out a cold, stiff “Mom.”

In that moment, it felt like a wild cat slashed through my heart. But eventually, I got used to it.

My own son insisted on calling another woman “My mom,” and all I could do was swallow the pain and accept it.

When he realized I was serious about leaving, Colin finally lifted his heavy body from the chair. His eyes went wide, and he shouted at me with his whole throat.

What he said next, like something only a brute would say, made me stop in my tracks.

“So, you’ve grown some nerve now? Fine, leave if you want, but anything from my house stays. I’m checking you before you go.”

Before I even processed his words, Colin grabbed my coat with his greasy hands.

“This wool coat is my mom’s. Take it off.”

So, that was it. He wanted the old, faded wool coat his mother-in-law had tossed to me like charity.

I silently slipped it off and dropped it onto the floor.

His face darkened as he scanned my clothes, searching for anything else he could claim.

He muttered for a long moment but found nothing.

Then, behind him, Agnes smiled sweetly and said, “Her bra. I bought the bra she’s wearing.”

A cold shiver went through me. I glared at that vicious woman.

“If you’re leaving, then follow the rules,” she said lightly. “Give back everything that belongs here. That bra wasn’t cheap after all.”

When Colin was little, we were very poor, and his body developed slowly. So, to help him grow, I breastfed him until he was five. It drained my body, left my chest permanently ruined, but I never complained.

Half a month ago, when the bras I brought from home were falling apart, I finally forced myself to ask my son to buy me a new one. Predictably, he only yelled at me and did nothing.

It was Agnes who stepped in. She took the seventy bucks Colin gave her and dragged me to a lingerie shop. She tried on bras for herself the entire afternoon and spent sixty-seven dollars on a leopard-print one and a lace one.

Then she pulled me into a narrow alley, grabbed some random bargain-bin bra, held it up to my chest, and used the remaining three bucks to buy me two tiny, tight, scratchy ones that cut into my skin.

The moment she finished reminding everyone of it, Colin’s face flashed with embarrassment.

I said calmly, “She’s right. I’m wearing one, and the other is in my bundle.”

I then threw the wrinkled bra onto the ground and looked him straight in the eye.

“Do you want me to take off the one I’m wearing too?”

He hesitated for three seconds, then waved his hand. “Forget it. Just go.”

But Colette shrieked, “Absolutely not! That cost seventy bucks. You can’t let her steal it! If she gets away with this, next time she’ll take something even more expensive. She’ll drag us down with her!”

“Colin, Colette is right. She’s choosing to leave, so she shouldn’t take even a needle or a thread from this house,” Agnes added.

Colin looked between the two women, then pointed at me. “They’re right. That cost seventy bucks. You’re not taking it.”

Then he sighed impatiently. “Mom, stop making trouble. We’re going to be late for work. It was one pickled egg, but I’m letting that go. Don’t throw a tantrum.”

When I still didn’t give in, his face turned pitch black. “You really want to leave? Then hurry up and take it off. Stop wasting my time.”