Too Late to Hold Her, Too Late to Love Her

I gently wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Mom, don’t say that. I’m fine.”

After dinner, I stayed with her for a while, listening to her familiar voice and cherishing the warmth of her presence. Eventually, she urged us to leave early so we wouldn’t be late for work the next day.

As we stepped out, she leaned in and whispered, her voice laced with quiet determination, “If that vixen dares to pester Hugo again, just tell me. I’ll deal with her myself.”

I nodded, but deep down, I no longer cared.

I didn’t tell her Ava had already moved into our home; I feared it would only infuriate her.

Love was simple. Either it existed, or it didn’t. And once it was gone, no amount of support could make up for the emptiness it left behind.

Still, as I caught sight of the silver strands in her hair, a deep ache settled in my chest. The thought of never seeing her again, never tasting her home-cooked meals, filled me with sorrow I couldn’t shake.

Mom, please take care of yourself.

The drive home was cloaked in silence. Hugo focused on the road, his expression unreadable.

From the backseat, Jasper’s face was a storm of barely restrained anger. The moment we got into the car, he snapped.

“Mom, how could you?”

I met his resentful gaze, my voice calm and steady. “How could I what?”

Jasper let out a cold laugh, sharp with accusation. “Stop pretending. You went to Grandma’s behind everyone’s back just to badmouth Aunt Ava. Now that Grandma scolded her and kicked her out, are you satisfied?”

I had to admit my son’s imagination was impressive.

The older he got, the more he resembled Hugo, calm and composed yet carrying an undercurrent of quiet cruelty.

I tilted my head slightly. “And how do you know I spoke ill of your Aunt Ava?”

“Did you hear it with your own ears?”

He rolled his eyes, his voice laced with disdain. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He spoke with such certainty as if I had been born a scheming troublemaker.

I had no idea what I had done to make him see me this way.

At that moment, I felt like a complete failure.

Any explanation would sound like an excuse, so I swallowed my words and chose silence.

A quiet beat passed before Hugo spoke, his voice softer than usual.

“Jasper, don’t talk to your mother like that.”

Jasper’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Dad, did you forget how pitiful Aunt Ava looked when she was crying just now? She didn’t do anything wrong! Why should she be treated like that?”

Hugo let out a slow sigh. “You’re still too young to understand how things work between adults.”

But Jasper refused to back down.

“What don’t I understand? Aunt Ava only left you in the past, right? Everyone makes mistakes. She already came back and admitted she was wrong; what more do you want?”

Everyone makes mistakes.

The words echoed in my mind, a lesson I had once taught him.

When he was four, he had been too busy playing to eat. In his excitement, he knocked over a cup, spilling boiling water across my hand. The pain shot through me instantly. I sucked in a sharp breath, but before I could say anything, he burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, Mommy! Jasper was wrong! Jasper didn’t mean to!”

Despite the burning ache, I pulled him into my arms and soothed him. “Don’t cry, Jasper. Everyone makes mistakes. As long as you realize it and make it right, you’re still a good boy.”

With tear-filled eyes, he had asked me what that meant.

I had told him that mistakes weren’t scary as long as he was willing to learn from them.

He nodded as if he understood.

I thought he had learned the lesson. And he had.

I just never expected him to use it to defend Ava.

After he finished speaking, Hugo didn’t argue. He simply kept driving, his hands steady on the wheel, but his eyes flickered toward me now and then as if trying to read my reaction.

I gave him nothing. My face remained impassive, my gaze fixed straight ahead as if their conversation hadn’t touched me at all.

By the time we arrived home, Ava had already set the table. A feast awaited us, dish after dish, carefully prepared.

Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, her eyes red-rimmed, as if she had been crying.

The moment she saw us, she forced a smile.