Chapter 12

Rossa fell silent for a moment.

Just imagining it already felt like something far beyond her reach.

“You… must have never been alone there,” she whispered softly.

Livia did not answer immediately.

She only gave a faint smile.

“Not always,” she said gently.

Then she spoke again, this time in a lighter tone.

“And… there is one more.”

Rossa raised her eyebrows slightly.

“A man?”

Livia laughed softly, a little shy.

“Mother, really.”

Rossa smiled as well.

“He is my friend,” Livia continued. “He is annoying.”

“How can someone be a friend if he is annoying?”

“Because he always bothers me,” Livia answered quickly. “When I’m seriously studying, he comes and messes up my books. When I’m quiet, he keeps asking questions until I talk.”

Rossa chuckled softly.

“But… you are not angry?”

Livia shook her head.

“No.” She smiled. “Because he is always there.”

The sentence came out just like that.

Simple.

Yet warm.

“When it rains…” Livia continued, her eyes slightly distant. “We often get stuck on campus. So we sit on the stairs, watching people run to avoid the rain.”

“And you?”

“We just sit.” Livia smiled. “He usually brings an umbrella… but never wants to open it.”

“Why?”

“He says… rain is not always something to avoid.”

Rossa fell silent.

Those words felt strange… yet beautiful.

“Rain…” she repeated softly.

“Yes, Mother.” Livia looked at her. “Sometimes it’s cold… but it’s nice.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Only the soft sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves touched by their hands.

“Is… the outside world really that beautiful?”

Rossa’s question came out very softly.

As if she was afraid the answer would destroy something inside her.

Livia turned to her.

Looking at her mother gently.

“Not always,” she answered honestly.

Rossa looked slightly surprised.

“Sometimes it’s tiring. Sometimes it’s painful too.” Livia smiled faintly. “But… at least we can choose.”

“Choose…”

“Yes.” Livia nodded. “Where to go. Whether to stop or continue. Whether to laugh or stay silent.”

Rossa lowered her head.

Her hand holding the flower stem trembled slightly.

“I…” her voice was almost inaudible. “I have never had a choice.”

Livia immediately moved closer.

Very carefully, she touched her mother’s hand.

“There will be a time, Mother.”

Rossa smiled.

But the smile was fragile.

“And when that time comes… I want to see everything,” she whispered softly. “The crowded streets… the rain that is not avoided… and people laughing without fear.”

Livia held her hand tighter.

“You will see it, Mother.”

The conviction in her voice sounded so strong.

As if she was making a promise to herself.

A few seconds later…

Livia began to talk again.

About other small things.

About strict lecturers.

About piling assignments.

About her friends who often complained but still laughed.

And from all those stories…

laughter began to appear.

Slowly.

Then more freely.

Rossa laughed.

Livia too.

Their laughter sounded light—as if the world had never been cruel to them.

As if the wounds did not exist.

As if they were just an ordinary mother and daughter on a peaceful morning.

But in reality…

every movement still hurt.

Every breath was still painful.

And every laugh…

was their way of surviving.

Elsewhere—

in a place unseen by them—

Robert sat in silence.

From behind a large window, his gaze was fixed on the flower garden.

On Rossa.

Since morning, since the woman began working…

he had already been there.

Not moving.

Only watching.

As if Rossa were a sight that never bored him.

Or perhaps…

something he could never fully possess.

His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw Livia.

When he saw the girl hug Rossa.

When he saw them talking.

And then…

laughing.

That laughter.

Light.

Free.

Real.

Something that… he had never seen.

Never.

Not in front of him.

Not for years.

Robert remained silent.

His hand resting on the armrest slowly tightened.

There was something unfamiliar in his chest.

A feeling he did not recognize—

or perhaps…

one he had long ignored.

He had seen Rossa cry.

Seen her beg.

Seen her break.

But…

a smile like that?

Laughter like that?

Never.

And somehow…

that sight felt more painful than anything he had ever seen before.

As if, without realizing it…

he had taken something from her.

Something he could never return.

In the garden, the laughter still echoed.

But to Robert—

it was not happiness.

It was something that had never truly been his.

And perhaps…

never would be.