3. A Mother's Shame

I returned home with trembling legs. The work bag that usually felt light now seemed unbearably heavy, as though it contained explosives ready to destroy my life.

But the heaviest burden was actually inside my jacket pocket. A small box containing something marked with two red lines that felt far more explosive than any time bomb in the world.

From the kitchen came the crackling sound of oil and the aroma of garlic being stir-fried. That smell had always been my favorite, but this afternoon, its savory fragrance only made my stomach churn.

Mother was still busy with her cooking.

"You look so pale, Fay," she said after briefly glancing at me. "Caught a chill again? It seems like your health has been getting worse lately."

I remained silent, unable to say a word. Meanwhile, Mother continued speaking.

"Take care of your health, Fay. What if you get sick? Don't let your health affect your work," she said. "Remember, you're still an intern. You have a long future ahead of you."

At that moment, it felt as though thunder rumbled above my head. The echoes overlapped, as if her last sentence was reminding me why I had come here.

"What's wrong? Why are you so quiet? Is something the matter?" Mother asked without turning around, still focused on her cooking.

I swallowed, my mouth as bitter as bile.

"Mom, there's something I want to tell you," I said cautiously.

The wooden spatula in her hand suddenly stopped moving. She turned off the stove, then slowly turned around. Her sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe, searching for whatever mistake I might have brought home from the city.

"What is it? Don't tell me you got fired from your internship," she asked suspiciously.

I dragged my feet toward the dining chair and collapsed into it with the little strength I had left. My fingers twisted together beneath the table. The words I had rehearsed all the way home suddenly disappeared.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Slowly, I gathered the courage to speak.

"I'm pregnant, Mom."

Silence instantly surrounded us. The ticking of the wall clock in the living room suddenly sounded like deafening thunder in my ears.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Time seemed to stop in the silence that held us captive. I held my breath.

"What?!" Mother's voice rose an octave, piercing the silence. "Say that again, Fay. What did you just say?"

With trembling hands, I reached into my pocket and placed the pregnancy test box on the wooden table in front of me. I slowly pushed it toward Mother, as though the plastic object was something forbidden that I could no longer bear to touch.

She snatched it up. Her face, pale from shock only moments before, turned crimson within seconds.

Her breathing quickened, while I was terrified beyond words.

"Who?" Her voice was now as sharp as a freshly honed blade. "Who is the man, Fay?!"

I weakly shook my head as tears began to gather in my eyes.

"I can't tell you, Mom."

"Why can't you?!" Mother shouted, slamming her hand onto the table so hard that the glass on top of it rattled. "Do you think this is a joke? You're pregnant out of wedlock, Fay! Do you know what this means for us?"

My tears finally spilled down my cheeks.

The guilt and anxiety about that night came rushing back to haunt me. I felt dirty. I felt lost. And what hurt the most was that I didn't fully understand what had happened that night.

Mother stood up so abruptly that the wooden chair scraped loudly across the tiled floor.

"I sent you to the city to work, to lift our family's status, not to bring us disgrace!" Her words cut deeply, striking me straight in the chest. "Do you know what those neighbors are like?"

Mother closed her eyes and took a long breath, struggling to contain her anger.

"Do you realize your life is over now?" she said quietly, yet every word pierced me. "Your career, your future, all those dreams you were so proud of. They're all ruined!"

I cried. My tears flowed uncontrollably.

"I still want to work, Mom. I can raise this child on my own without burdening anyone."

Mother scoffed.

"On your own?" She looked at me with contempt. "Do you think life is that easy? You're still just a child, Fay. You know nothing about how cruel the world is to a woman raising a child without a husband."

"I'm already twenty-two years old, Mom. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"And that's still not old enough to withstand people's gossip, Fay!" Mother paced back and forth anxiously before stopping right in front of me. "We can't let people find out," she said firmly. "If everyone here finds out, you're finished, and I won't be able to show my face anywhere!"

"Then what am I supposed to do, Mom?"

"You're going back to the village."

My heart seemed to stop beating.

"What? To the village?"

"Yes, to your grandmother's house on the edge of the forest," she repeated. "Pack your things tonight. You're leaving tomorrow morning."

"But my job, Mom. I just started my internship, and they said I've been doing well."

"You can always find another job, Fay!" Her voice thundered through the kitchen. "But this family's reputation can't be bought with your insignificant intern's salary. Do you want your father to find out and have a heart attack because of what you've done?"

I shook my head, tears falling even faster.

"I don't want to be hidden away as if I'm trash. This is my child, Mom. My own flesh and blood."

Mother looked at my still-flat stomach. For a brief moment, I saw fear flash across her face, not hatred.

"I don't hate the baby, Fay. But if people find out, I'll be humiliated in front of the whole village!"

Those words struck me harder than any shout ever could. So to her, her pride in front of the neighbors was worth more than comforting her own daughter whose world had fallen apart.

"So you're ashamed?" I asked softly, almost in a whisper.

Mother fell silent and turned toward the window, where the last traces of daylight were giving way to night.

"That's your answer," I whispered bitterly as I wiped away my tears.

"You're leaving tomorrow," she said at last, her voice cold and final. "Stay there until you give birth. After that, we'll decide what to do."

That night, I packed my clothes in silence. Every fold felt like a farewell. To my life in the city, to my dreams, even to the freedom I thought I still had.

Before turning off the light, I gently placed my hand on my stomach. A strange warmth spread across my palm.

Something that felt powerful, protective, and ... wild.

I froze for a moment, but quickly pushed the thought aside.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the baby I had not even seen yet. "Mom hasn't been able to protect you the way you deserve."

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