A knock came on the door, subtle yet loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.
The sound echoed faintly through Leah's quiet chamber, then faded into the stillness like a whisper swallowed by the air.
But Leah didn't hear a thing.
She sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the fading horizon, lost in a maze of thoughts she could not escape.
The gentle breeze stirred the thin curtains beside her, brushing softly against her cheek, yet even that she did not feel.
Her eyes were swollen and red, her lips dry and chapped, and her once radiant face now pale and sunken. She had been crying again…silently, endlessly—until the tears had carved faint traces down her cheeks.
Her fingers idly toyed on her thumb; she was mindlessly inflicting wounds on herself.
Another knock followed, a little firmer this time, breaking the silence once more.
Still, she did not move. The world around her seemed distant.
The door finally creaked open, and Johanna stepped in.
When Johanna saw that Leah was indeed in the room, though clearly lost in her thoughts, she let the door slam shut on purpose, the loud sound echoing through the chamber like a command for attention.
In that instant, Leah was jolted back to reality, her train of thoughts wavering, scattering like ashes in the wind. She turned around to see who it was, but her face became contorted afterwards.
The first thing Johanna noticed was Leah's hand; she was pinching her thumb again, a small, restless habit she always fell into whenever sorrow weighed too heavily on her heart.
"Leah."
Johanna called out softly.
Whatever faint glint that had remained in Leah's eyes dimmed at once, leaving them hollow and cold. Her expression hardened, the softness of grief replaced by quiet resentment.
"Courtesy demands you knock before entering," she said, her voice calm but edged with ice. The kind that came not from anger, but from wounds too old to heal.
She moved away from the window, her steps soft against the floor.
She walked up to the dressing table and picked up a pair of gloves, slipping them on with quiet precision.
She didn't wear them for elegance but to hide the small injury on her hand, the one she often pinched whenever her thoughts grew too heavy.
"I did knock."
Johanna answered, before inhaling sharply, her voice firm but low.
She steadied herself as her gaze lingered on her daughter.
It was clear Leah was struggling to have a simple conversation with her—the stiffness in her posture, the way she avoided eye contact, and the faint tremor in her gloved hand.
"I want to take a walk; come with me."
Johanna said, crossing her hands tentatively behind her back.
Leah let out a faint scoff, the sound laced with quiet disbelief.
From where she stood, she lifted her gaze to the mirror in front of her.
Her reflection stared back, pale and distant, a ghost of the person she used to be.
For a long moment, she said nothing, only studying the image of herself as though searching for a reason to obey.
Johanna took notice of her daughter's resentment; it lingered in the air like a chill, unsettling and heavy.
The bitterness in Leah's eyes cut deep; she had weathered far worse in silence, with no support.
Johanna began to speak as she made her way toward her daughter, her steps measured and graceful despite the tension in the room.
"You've grown distant," she said softly, though there was a firmness beneath her words.
"Every time I try to bond with you, you pull further away."
Her voice wavered for a brief moment, almost betraying the emotion she fought to contain.
Still, she kept moving forward, closing the space between them one cautious step at a time.
"And you're surprised?"
Leah asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
She turned slowly to face her mother, the faint light from the window catching the coldness in her eyes.
"Whatever enmity that has brewed in the past few weeks, it has weakened our bond. To the extent of nearly damaging it, Leah."
Johanna was now standing in front of her, face-to-face.
Leah wanted to believe that the countenance of remorse on her mother's face was nothing but a charade put together.
Hesitantly, Johanna reached out a hand toward her daughter, but Leah pulled away before she could be touched, her movement swift, almost instinctive, as though the very idea of contact burned.
Without a word, she brushed past Johanna and began to walk away, her steps echoing faintly in the tense silence that followed.
"What is done is done, Mother. You should leave."
Leah said dryly without a care in the world.
"Leah, do not turn away from me like this."
Johanna's voice trembled; although her face was cold, the tone in her voice said otherwise.
"Why are you and William so bent on deserting me?"
She questioned, a faint ache in her heart.
"You brought this upon yourself."
Leah snapped.
"I am simply trying to make amends."
"It is too late!
Leah shrilled and then turned to look at her mother. It turns out the only reason why she looked away was because she was trying to hide the tears clouding her eyes.
"You are not blind; can't you see the extent of damage your cruel hands have caused, all in the name of motherhood?!
Leah was quivering, but she managed to hold herself from breaking down.
"I need a chance to make things right."
Johanna was calm, too calm for the situation at hand.
"You won't be getting that chance from me."
Leah retorted before making her way across the room towards the door.
"I see your pain, Leah."
Johanna's voice cuts through the air, reaching Leah's ear from where she stood erect next to the door, about to take her leave.
"You can fight the pain, but not the blood that runs in your veins," she said softly, her gaze steady.
"Tell me, how long will you go on pretending to hate me, or keep trying to?"
"For as long as it takes me."
Leah cut in sharply, turning her back on her mother. Her words struck like a blade, cold and final.
Johanna lets out a bitter laugh.
"How long will that be? Days? Months? Maybe years. When I am finally old and fragile, and there is no memory of us to look back on?"
She started making her way towards Leah.
"I know you are hurting."
She says, strolling towards Leah.
"You don't."
Leah whispered, a tear rolling down her cheeks.
"You don't have a mother's instinct; how then can you possibly understand how I feel?"
Leah questioned softly.
By the time she raised her gaze, Johanna was standing right beside her; she took Leah's hands in hers.
"Walk with me."
She muttered audibly before pulling Leah out of the room; they both stepped into the verse hallways and then began to walk side by side until they got to the garden.
They were both silent as they walked beside each other, just taking in the fresh air, hearing the birds in the air chirp, and the movements of dry leaves being trampled under their feet.
"I want you to understand that whatever I do is for your own good."
Johanna finally breaks the silence.
"I cherish you dearly. I have no evil intent towards you; I am only concerned about your future. So when you refuse to talk to me, it hurts."
"I thought you were heartless."
Leah snapped, her voice dripping with an icy demeanor.
"I thought so too, but I am not."
Johanna shrugged before halting, then turning to face Leah.
"Deep down there is always this survival instinct to protect what I love, and you happen to be among the many things I love wholeheartedly."
She said, then cupped Leah's face, peering into her eyes. Leah looked away, but she straightened Leah's face gently until they locked eyes.
Leah batted her lashes at the reflection of the rays coming from the evening sun.
Her pale skin radiating under the soft glow of the sun setting in the west.
"I do not doubt your love, Mother; I only fear the extent you would go just to prove it."
Leah answered her gaze dropping.
"You have to understand that I am no longer a child; I do not always need you to intercede for me. I have to learn to find my way, even if it means getting lost."
Johanna listened to her daughter's words and then nodded curtly.
This conversation was harder than she thought it would be, but she came fully prepared.
"I am sorry."
She said, peering at Leah profoundly.
Leah was astounded by her mother's words. Such a rare thing to hear her mother apologizing.
"Saying sorry won't bring back all the things you have snatched away from me."
Leah gritted her teeth, turning her face away simultaneously.
"I know that."
Johanna said, filled with remorse, her hand finally dropped to her side.
"It is my deepest regret that the hands of time cannot be turned to redeem all that has been lost. But my biggest fear is losing you; I have no one in this world who cares about my existence."
She added, trying to fight back the tears clouding her vision.
"But if only you could give me another chance to set things right. Maybe…just maybe, there will be one person in this world to remember me when I am gone."
Her voice was beginning to break; she was finding it hard to express what she was feeling but had to try her best.
"What makes you think I will forgive you?"
The coldness in Leah's voice was beginning to wane. But her hawk gaze was intense.
Johanna swallowed hard before saying,
"I am not sure, Leah. I might not be worthy of your forgiveness; I can only hope you find it in your heart somewhere to pardon my mistakes."
Leah's knees trembled; all this while she had been trying to hold back her tears, to keep her emotions in check, but it was of no use.
Right there, that very instant, uncontrollably, tears welled up in her eyes and then began to trickle down her face. She broke down, crying her heart out as she enveloped Johanna in a tight hug.
Johanna patted Leah softly on her back, then shifted her attention to her hair.
She began to rake her fingers through Leah's hair as she whispered words of comfort into her daughter's ear.
"You don't know what this means to me, to have you back again."
Leah mumbled, her face pressed in Johanna's bosom.
She had stopped crying and was now sniffing.
She disengaged from the embrace, her breath unsteady. She smoothed the creases from her dress with trembling hands, then tried to wipe the tears from her face. But more kept falling, warm and silent, betraying the composure she fought to regain.
She was completely drained by her own tears.
"How do you feel?"
Johanna asked, tugging a string of hair behind Leah's ear.
"I feel like your daughter again."
Leah said genuinely, and Johanna smiled.
"I am glad you do."
She said, entwining her hands in Leah's, and they began to walk through the garden.
After a brief silence, Leah gazed at her mother.
"There is one more person that needs this version of you."
Johanna immediately picked up on what Leah was trying to insinuate.
She smiled bitterly, shaking her head from side to side.
"William? That is merely impossible, don't you think? I have done nothing but push him around to be a complete stranger to his own self. If I were him, I would hate myself too."
"It won't hurt to try."
Leah added as she began to caress the diamond ring on her pinky finger.
"You are only assuming, Leah. He is my son; I know him far more than you think I do. He won't give in so easily."
"Do you still love him, Mother?"
Leah questioned as they began to walk on the seashore, their footprints carved on the wet sand.
"My blood runs in his veins, Leah; to not love him is like saying he was never my son to begin with."
"You have not answered the question."
Leah replied bluntly.
Johanna remained quiet, her eyes distant for a while.
"I do," she answered, almost not believing her own words.
"He is my son after all. What kind of mother would hate her own son?"
She added, having mixed feelings.
"That's all I needed to hear."
Leah said before leaning on her mother's shoulder, taking in the fresh sea breeze, before going ahead to say,
"Believe it or not, he yearns for the same thing: to be loved. We all need each other. I will talk to him."