Chapter 25 – Thorns in Blood

Mannie’s POV

I should have left earlier.

After Zarah walked off with her posse and her laughter, I knew we’d stayed too long. But my mom wanted to pay respects to Zarah’s mother. She kept saying it was the “right thing to do,” even if our presence wasn’t wanted.

So I stayed.

I stayed and watched my children smile over nothing but juice and biscuits, watched them sit politely while people looked down at them like stray dogs.

I stayed because my mom stayed and I knew she was trying her best to make peace with the past.

But peace wasn’t going to last long.

Not with them around.

"Look who finally made it," I heard someone say from behind.

I didn’t need to turn around to recognize that voice. It was sharp. Sweet on the surface but always hiding a blade underneath.

My sister-in-law.

Sandra.

She came clicking her heels like the whole party was hers. Her dress was tight and red, her makeup caked on too thick, and her smile was poison wrapped in pearls. Beside her, my younger brother, Terry, followed quietly, hands stuffed in his pockets like always.

"I thought you weren’t coming," she said, her eyes dragging from my hair down to my flats.

"Change of plans," I said simply.

"Oh," she fake-laughed. "Well, it must have taken a lot of courage to show up. You know... considering how busy you must be. Eight kids and no husband? That must be... exhausting."

My mom shot her a glare, but I raised a hand. I could handle it.

"They’re a handful," I said, keeping my voice level. "But they’re mine. And I love them."

Sandra sniffed. "Love is cute. But love doesn’t buy shoes or pay school fees. I’m just saying... it’s a shame. All those kids and still living like this."

She gestured toward my plain dress, toward my children who were now quietly listening, eyes wide.

"You don’t have to be here," I said.

"Oh, but I do," she said brightly. "Unlike some people, Terry and I came to support family. Zarah’s family, of course. You know, real family. The kind who lifts others up."

I felt my teeth clench.

My mom stood beside me, face tight, her hand squeezing her scarf.

"Zarah’s mother has always been kind to us," My mom said softly. "She welcomed us before, even when things were hard."

I wanted to roll my eyes at my mother’s words cos I understood that what Zarah’s mother was just to show people that she helped her poor relatives by giving us palliatives like 0 cups of rice and a tomato while she completely forgot how I had to stop schooling for a while to gather enough money to pay Zarah’s school fees while her mother went gambling and her father drinking.

Or was it how she lived with me in my manageable two room apartment without helping out in anything, not even in doing the dishes after eating.

Sandra turned to My mom and smiled too wide. "Yes, well, if you had raised a more useful daughter, maybe things wouldn’t be so hard for you now, right?"

My breath caught.

I saw red.

"Sandra," I said slowly, "you’ve never lifted a finger to help My mom. Not once. You never visit her. Never call. Never bring her food. But now you’re here, running your mouth like you care?"

She laughed. She actually dare to laughx.

"And what have you done, Mannie? Other than pop out kids like popcorn? You think that’s impressive? You think having eight children makes you a queen? Please. The rest of us are tired of carrying shame just because you couldn’t keep your legs closed."

Terry shifted awkwardly beside her, but he didn’t stop her.

He never did.

"Sandra," I warned, "I will not do this with you. Not here and definitely not today."

"Why not? Embarrassment doesn’t pick a date. It’s already here. The whole town knows you have no husband. You walk around like your children are trophies. Meanwhile, your brother has to live in your shadow. Always answering questions about your mess."

"My mess?" I stepped forward. "Terry is a grown man. If he wanted to be anything, he could. But you want a shortcut. And you think attaching yourself to Zarah’s wealth is the answer. Don’t pretend it’s about family. You’re just a leech."

Her face changed.

"At least I’m not raising eight bastards and dragging the family name through the mud."

That did it.

I stepped forward, ready to explode, but My mom reached out and grabbed my arm.

"Enough," she whispered.

I turned to her.

Her eyes were watery.

"My mom—"

She shook her head.

"She’s right," she said quietly. "Maybe... if I had given birth to a better daughter... we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be poor. We wouldn’t be shamed."

"No," I said quickly, grabbing her hands. "Don’t say that. Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of this."

She didn’t speak.

She just looked down.

Sandra rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe it’s good you finally see it. You should be ashamed. All of you."

I turned to her, shaking with anger. "You’re the one who should be ashamed. For tearing down a woman who raised children on her own. For disrespecting a mother who did her best. For being so obsessed with money that you lost your soul."

Sandra opened her mouth, but I didn’t let her speak.

"You’re bitter because you think I stole something from you. But I didn’t. You’re bitter because I have eight children and you have none. And instead of facing that pain, you turned it into poison. And now you spit it at everyone who dares to smile."

Her face turned white.

Terry finally stepped between us. "Mannie, that’s enough."

I looked at him.

"No, Terry. What’s enough is your silence. All these years, you let her say whatever she wants. You let her treat My mom like dirt. You let her treat me like trash. When are you going to speak up for your family?"

He didn’t answer.

He looked away.

Typical.

My mom tugged on my sleeve. "Let’s go. Please."

I took a deep breath and turned to my children.

"Come on, kids. We’re done here."

“Leaving already? The shame finally got to you?” Sandra snickered.

“How can you leave without giving the celebrant her birthday gift. At least that is the little thing you can do.” Sandra added, making me halt in my steps.

My mom whispered into my ear, “We would give our gifts and leave.”