Are You My Mother Book Pages Novels & Stories

My grip tightened, the edges of the page digging into my palm, and I could hear my mother's sharp inhale, her disbelieving stare cutting into me. The words on the page burned into my eyes. My throat tightened, my chest rising and falling as though the room itself had been drained of air. Slowly, deliberately, I extended the sheet toward my mother. “The child…” my voice cracked, but I steadied it, forcing steel into my tone, “…is mine. Not Jace’s.” Her hand trembled as she took it, her eyes darting across the lines. Her lips parted in shock, then curled into a bitter sneer.

*Saoirse,* and the small heart, in her slanted hand. Underneath it, in pencil, very faint: *yours.* I looked at the two words for a while the mother who gave me the book at the start of my life, and the man who gave it back to me in the middle of it and then I turned past the title page, and I began to read. I read for two hours.

Her mother’s initials were burned into the cover in delicate cursive. M. R. She swallowed the lump in her throat and her fingers brushed over the first page where her mother’s handwriting danced across the paper–soft, looping yet familiar, so she turned the pages slowly, breathing in the scent of old ink and secrets. It felt like touching a ghost. The entries started off innocent. Memories of family, travels, and notes about the gardens. But as the pages went on, something shifted. The handwriting got rushed and fear seeped into her mother’s words.

I asked my mother in a daze and watched my gourds turn serious. “The clue is correct; however, you are going to waste time going to the place. Just look for the map inside the book, and you will know how to get to the references,” my mother said and walked over to Aris. “Your mates are very cute... Of all of them, he's the funniest.” I opened my mouth in surprise. It was the first time my mother had spoken in that jovial way. “Focus, Mom, what book are you talking about?” I asked, and my mom looked at me with narrowed eyes.

I take it from him gently and flip it open, shocked to see that it’s images of my mother’s wedding day – And, oh my god – that I’m in them – “That’s you, right?” Romulus says, peeking at the pages of the book, pointing at the picture of my mother. “No,” I say softly. “That was my mom. Thank you for showing it to me, Romulus,” I say, looking down at him gratefully. I push it back towards him, as the noise escalates in the next room. I hope that some day I’ll be able to look through it more closely, but now, it definitely seems like time to go -

I had just seen a stupid text, and now, here I am, about to go through my mother's private thoughts and experiences. I flipped through the early pages of the book. Most of the pages contained vague entries; appointments, recipes, dates she wanted to remember, information about my father. Nothing about me and Enzo since we hadn't even been born then. I had just gotten halfway through the journal when I saw something that made me freeze in place. There was an entry that was violently scratched out, the pen having torn through the whole page in places, leaving only a few words unscathed. The date was exactly one month before I was born.

********** That night, I couldn't shake off the feeling that the training with Zane this morning had changed something inside me. Restless, I slipped out of my room and made my way towards the Pack archives. I could find something that hints at the truth about my mother. The scent of old books and dust hit my nostril, the moment I stepped in. I searched through the shelves and then found a book titled 'The Forbidden Luna'. What was that? I quickly opened the book, and scanned through the pages. My mother's name was scrawled across it. My breath caught. Before I could read further, a hard hand closed around my wrist. I froze.

I slowly peeled the fabric and it showed off an old leather-covered book. The first page read "Diary of Roma". A smile slipped on his lips and tears flowed in his eyes. It's my mother's diary.

The pages flipped on their own, fast at first, then slower, until they stopped right in the middle of the book. Words began to glow. Not carved or written. Glowing. My breath caught in my throat as I read. “My little boy is all grown up…” The sentence shook me. There was a faint blur at the end of it, like the ink had been smeared by tears when it was written, and I swear my chest physically tightened. The next line appeared slowly, like it was being written in real time. “Victor… you need the Gem of Life to live.” My hands trembled. The writer is really is my mother. But…

I spun out my bed and scrambled my way to the study, mother was hiding something and I really need to figure out. Lightning and thunder ravaged through the hallway windows casting the shadows of the trees through the wall. The study was a big space filled with brown shelves and filled with books, getting one for Violet wouldn’t be a bad idea. I strolled round the library in the study and my attention trapped the very first edition of paurnima curse, a book papa got for mother when she found out about the clan. My clean nails studied the hardness of the brown books which dated from centuries with its italic words scribble against every page.