"They were right—you're the useless woman!" the little boy cried, his voice trembling. "But my sister… she didn't listen to them. She's the foolish one! Isn't she?"
He tried to hold back his tears, but they fell anyway. "You should go. You have to leave, or Father will stop you."
"I will," Amara said softly, yet she stayed, gazing at the boy.
"You left us! You abandoned us! They mock us because of you! They call us liars! They even try to hurt us! It's all your fault! Why did you even have us? What sin did we commit to deserve this? Leave! Please leave! I don't want you!" His voice rose with anguish, unaware of the full truth.
"Go! Just leave! Escape again! I don't understand why Father won't let you go!" he shouted, hiccuping as tears streaked his flushed face. His eyes, once bright, now mirrored the depths of his despair, hauntingly blue. "You heartless woman!"
Amara gazed at him, her chest tightening with a mix of sorrow and helplessness. I need to leave, but my body won't move.
Yet the boy's voice shattered her thoughts, filled with raw anguish. "You have no right to cry or look at me! My sister might be a fool, but I'm not. You are not my mother! Hurry! Leave!" His voice trembled, yet he stood his ground.
Amara froze. Crying? Am I? She suddenly realized tears were falling down her cheeks, unbidden.
She remained at the window, heart heavy. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked, gazing into his tear-filled eyes that felt like daggers piercing her soul.
"Yes! Don't ever come back! We don't need you!" the boy replied, his small hands desperately trying to wipe away his tears.
"Then why are you crying?" she pressed, stepping closer.
"It's… happy tears," he said, a painful laugh escaping him, even as the tears continued to flow. "I'm just glad I was right—not the wrong one."
Amara knelt to meet his gaze, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
"Go! Leave!" the boy insisted, though he didn't push her away.
"I don't want to leave," she whispered into his ear, her voice breaking.
"Leave," he murmured, almost inaudibly.
"I can't leave," Amara replied, her heart shattering.
Silence enveloped them. The boy finally released his grief, crying like a baby, clinging to her as if she were his only refuge. She held him, letting herself feel the years of pain, loss, and guilt. .
.