Barren Mother Novels & Stories

I even wondered if she had really gone mad. "You treated me the same way too when I was little, no?" Mom suddenly stopped laughing. The memories of her childhood, as described by her, became fragmented and cruel. It turned out that when Mom was a child, my grandfather eloped with someone else because Grandma couldn't give birth to a son. During that time, Grandma must have lost her sanity and would beat and scold Mom every day. Therefore, in Mom's memory, giving birth to a daughter was a misfortune, and keeping a husband was an instinct all women had.

She could raise three children by herself, but her mother couldn't even raise a daughter. Such a shame on her! She least expected that from her. " I know you've married into the Banks family. I work for Banks Anderson and you know him, right? So, don't come to me again. Just pretend that you don't know me because if you don't, I will make sure you pay for it!" She said angrily. She did not want anything from this selfish woman! " But why? You're still my daughter and I can even help you with your work. Thank goodness I know him!”

And only then could the Keeper fully reclaim his variable. --- The children were unaware of the true source of their mother’s suffering. They noticed fatigue, pallor, quiet cries in the night—but nothing explained the constant, creeping dread that had entered their home. Lerato hid it as best she could, masking weakness with determination, fear with purpose. But every night, in the quiet hours, she felt herself being drained by something that knew her heart, her love, her every instinct. It was the darkness. And it was hungry. --- Doctors tried to help. Nurses tried to care. Friends offered support.

The room was thick with tension, so palpable that one could wrap it around themselves as a duvet. “Is everything alright?” Barbara, his mother, sauntered down the stairs. Her navy blue dress was tightly fitted to reveal the body she worked out daily for. No one would think she was a mother of a teenager because she had the beauty of a teenager herself. “Warn your son, Barbara, the next time he speaks out of tone, I will teach him a lesson.” Magnus held his son’s gaze for a second and then moved toward the steps. Barbara paused, her eyes gently following her husband’s heavy footsteps.

And now that Mom was gone, it was laughable that she was eagerly handing them over. "No need," I said flatly. Suddenly, Brad screamed. Olivia instinctively rushed to his side, looking all worried and concerned. "What's wrong?" He pointed, wide-eyed, at my mother's portrait and urn and asked in a trembling voice, "Why is there an urn here? Could your mom be—" "No way!" Olivia snapped as an ominous feeling crept up in her chest. People would often believe whatever let them sleep at night. If she had ever stopped to think about why Mom often struggled to breathe around her and why heart medication was scattered all over our house, she would've known Mom had a failing heart.

Mark spoke up this time, “We know you have a cure already and that is why you have locked yourself up inside. Are you hoping to be a capitalist and squeeze everyone dry till there is nothing left?” “Mother has been ill for the past days and you never called or even visited. Look at Cassie, she is just 16 years old and has a full life ahead of her can you really sit back and watch her die?” As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd with them started hollering as they pushed further with more violence. “What kind of a daughter are you? You have enough space in there, why can’t you let us in? Your mother in law is really cursed to have a person like you as her daughter.”

with his college friends. The irony was a jagged stone in her throat. After that, her mother-in-law had spent years turning around and calling her "barren" to anyone who would listen. It was a mockery she didn't understand. Alphas always had difficulties having children, their biology was complex and demanding, and she had tried, she had actually tried once but Greene didn't want it.

My throat closed. She didn’t know. That was what moved through me right then, slow and devastating. She was calling me barren in my own kitchen for the second time in two days and she did not know. None of them knew. There was a child inside me right now, Damien’s child, the heir she had just spent five minutes mourning the absence of, and he had sat across from me and told me to get rid of it because he couldn’t raise two children, and now his mother was standing here using the word barren like a sentence.

"No, I don't…" When she lifted her head again and met his eyes, he let out a piercing scream. How could he not, when what he saw was the face of his mother? The same mother who'd been dead for over a decade.

They were fixed on the open window, where the morning breeze carried in the unfiltered bitterness of the world outside. "They say she doesn't even know who the child belongs to," a voice rasped from the dirt path beyond our low hedge. It was sharp, cruel, and intentionally loud. "Taking in a nameless bastard when she couldn't even bear a child of her own. A barren woman raising an outcast. It’s a curse on the whole parish." I froze. The word barren was one I didn't understand, but the way it landed in the room made the air instantly cold.