CHAPTER 2

That evening, Sylvia found her mother sitting on the couch, watching television.

She stood near the doorway for a few seconds, gathering the courage to speak.

"Mum?"

Evelyn didn't look away from the television.

"What?"

"Can we talk?"

"About what?"

Sylvia walked closer and sat on the opposite couch.

"I've been thinking about something for a while now."

"Then say it."

Sylvia took a deep breath.

"I'm moving to New York."

That finally caught her mother's attention.

Evelyn turned towards her.

"You're what?"

"I'm moving to New York, Mum. I want to start a new life there. I believe I can get a better job, earn more money and eventually build a comfortable life for myself."

She paused.

"I also want to be able to help you. I don't want you to keep struggling. I want to send you money regularly so you can live comfortably."

Evelyn stared at her for a moment.

Then she leaned back against the couch.

"Finally."

Sylvia blinked.

"Finally?"

"At least you've thought of something useful for once. Perhaps having you out of this house will bring me some peace."

The smile on Sylvia's face slowly faded.

She had expected her mother to be sad.

Perhaps even angry.

But she hadn't expected those words.

Still, she forced herself to smile.

"I'm sorry if I've made things difficult for you, Mum. I really am. I know nothing I do can bring Dad back, but I promise I'll do my best to make you proud of me."

Evelyn looked away.

"When are you leaving?"

"Saturday morning. I've already secured an apartment."

"Then do whatever you want, Sylvia. You're old enough to make your own decisions."

"Okay, Mum."

Sylvia stood.

"I'll start packing tomorrow."

She turned towards her room.

Behind her, Evelyn remained silent.

Neither woman noticed the tears slowly gathering in the older woman's eyes.

---

Saturday morning arrived with unusually bright sunshine.

Sylvia stood in the middle of her bedroom, looking at the two large suitcases beside her bed.

Everything she owned seemed to fit inside them.

A few clothes, her shoes, important documents, some photographs, and the little things she had managed to hold on to over the years.

She picked up a framed photograph from her bedside table.

It was an old picture of her father holding her in his arms. She couldn't have been more than eight.

He was smiling.

And she was laughing.

Sylvia traced his face with her fingertips.

"I wish you were here, Daddy."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I hope you're proud of me. I'm finally going to do something with my life."

She pressed the photograph against her chest before carefully placing it inside her handbag.

A few minutes later, her ride arrived.

Sylvia dragged her suitcases towards the living room.

Her mother was sitting on the couch, just as she had been the previous evening.

"Mum, my ride is here."

Evelyn nodded.

"Alright."

Sylvia stood in front of her, suddenly unsure of what to say.

This was it.

She was leaving the only home she had ever known.

Despite everything, this was still her mother.

The woman who had carried her for nine months, given birth to her and raised her, even if grief had made their relationship something neither of them knew how to repair.

Sylvia bent down and kissed her mother's cheek.

"I'll miss you, Mum."

Evelyn looked at her.

"I'll call you every day, okay? And once I start working, I'll send you money. You won't have to worry about anything."

Her voice trembled.

"Please take care of yourself. Eat properly and don't forget your medication."

She paused, trying to hold back her tears.

"I love you, Mum."

Evelyn looked down at her hands.

Sylvia forced a small smile.

"And I'm sorry. For everything. Especially what happened to Dad."

That was enough to break her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she quickly wiped them away.

"I wish things were different."

She turned before her mother could see just how much she was hurting.

Dragging her suitcases towards the door, she stepped outside.

The morning breeze brushed against her face.

She took one last look at the house.

Then she walked towards the waiting car.

---

Evelyn remained seated long after her daughter had left.

The television continued playing, but she wasn't watching anymore.

Her eyes were fixed on the doorway Sylvia had disappeared through.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She remembered the little girl who used to run into her arms after school, the one who would giggle whenever her father lifted her onto his shoulders.

She remembered the way Sylvia used to cry whenever she was sick and how her father would stay awake all night beside her bed.

Her daughter had been innocent.

She knew that.

Deep down, she had always known.

Sylvia had been only ten years old when everything happened. She hadn't understood the world, let alone the consequences of anything she said or did.

Yet Evelyn had spent thirteen years punishing her for something she could never have controlled.

She had allowed grief to turn her into a woman her daughter was afraid to approach.

And now, the little girl she once held so tightly was leaving with nothing but painful memories of home.

Evelyn covered her mouth as a sob escaped her.

"I'm sorry, my baby."

She looked towards the door.

"I love you, Sylvia."

But the house was already empty.

And her daughter was already on her way to a new life.