Charlene's POV
Since Monica came back, Lily has been quieter than usual. She no longer waits for me in the kitchen every morning, no longer runs up to me with endless stories. Most of the time, she stays off to the side—listening, watching, keeping things to herself.
That afternoon, I saw them together in the garden. Monica was seated on the metal chair, still elegant even under the heat of the sun. Lily stood in front of her, holding her small bag tightly.
I didn't mean to overhear them. But Monica's voice was clear—calm, controlled, almost gentle, as if there was no tension at all.
"Do you miss me?" she asked.
Lily didn't answer right away.
"Lily," Monica said again, softer this time. "I'm your mom."
I stayed by the doorway. I didn't want to interfere, but I couldn't bring myself to walk away either.
"Yes," Lily answered quietly.
Monica smiled. "See? I knew it."
She knelt in front of Lily. "You know, baby, we can be together again. Just you and me. Like before."
"Before?" Lily asked.
"Before everything became… complicated."
"Are you happy here?" Monica asked, sounding innocent.
Lily hesitated. Her eyes shifted toward the house—toward me.
I quickly looked away. She always glanced at me when she spoke to Monica, as if she was being forced to choose.
"It's okay," Monica said, gently stroking her hair. "You don't have to answer now. Just remember, no matter what happens, I'm your mom."
Lily stood up. She didn't smile.
"May I go inside now?" she asked.
For a brief moment, irritation crossed Monica's face, but she hid it immediately. "Of course."
When Lily passed by me, she held my hand. Her grip was firm, uncertain. She didn't look at me, but I knew she was confused.
That night, Monica walked into the living room where we were all gathered—Kerill, the twins, Erica, and me.
"Kerill," Monica said. "I want to talk to Lily."
He simply shrugged. "She's right here."
Monica approached Lily, who was sitting beside me. "Baby, I was thinking… maybe this weekend, you can stay with me."
The entire room fell silent.
Suddenly, Lily leaned away from her and moved closer to me.
"Lily?" Monica said, startled.
Lily clutched my clothes.
"No," she whispered.
Monica froze, then slowly turned her sharp gaze toward me.
"What do you mean, no?" she asked, still forcing calm.
"I want to stay here," Lily said. Her voice trembled, but her eyes were fixed on her mother. "I want to stay with Tita Charlene."
My breath caught.
I felt everyone turn toward us—Erica, the twins, even Kerill.
"Lily," Monica said firmly. "I'm your mother."
"Yes," Lily answered. "But she's the one who stays with me when I feel alone at night."
I inhaled sharply.
"She helps me with my homework," Lily continued. "She hugs me when I cry."
"Lily—"
"I love you, Mommy," she said. "But I don't want to go with you. I want to stay here."
I held her shaking hand. I didn't know if it was fear or exhaustion.
Monica suddenly stood up, anger flashing across her face.
"So that's it?" she snapped, now looking straight at me. "You turned my daughter against me?"
"I didn't—"
"You had no right," she hissed. "You're nothing but—"
"Enough," Kerill said coldly.
Monica turned to him, desperate. "She's manipulating them."
"Stop," Kerill said again. "Lily made her choice."
"This is unbelievable!" Monica shouted.
Lily pressed closer to me.
"Mom, stop. Please," Erica said.
Monica finally fell silent.
"You should go, Mom," Erica added.
Monica forced a smile. "No. I'm not leaving until you come with me." She turned to the twins. "Wency, Wyl—come with Mommy."
They didn't respond.
"Let's go home, sweethearts," she pleaded, reaching for them. They stepped away.
I watched her beg her own children. Even knowing her cruelty, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Being rejected like that—by your own kids—was unbearable.
She straightened herself, realizing she had lost.
"I'll take you back," she said firmly. "That's a promise."
She shot me one last hateful look before walking out the door.
I wondered if she really went home. It was already late. Anything could happen.
Kerill must have thought the same, because once she was outside, he called Edgar and told him to drive her home.
That's when I realized it.
He still cared about her.
Despite everything, there was still something there.
And I hated that.
Why did it hurt me to know that?