Caring Mother Novels & Stories

MOTHER A mother is the one who brought you into this world, She is the person who cares for you before she cares for her. When you feel sad, she'll be on your side, Wipe your tears with a sweet warm smile. She is with you in each step you take, Guide you to a line that you lead. She adores seeing you joyful, Glad when you are cheerful. Though you hurt her and make her cry, She never shows the pain and keeps on a smile.

I don't see why she would want to hear about my mother. "I'm just curious," she says simply. She walks with a graceful gait while running her fingers along the stony wall. "Well," I think hard, "she's like most mothers. You know, caring and sweet." Isla nods encouraging me to go on, "she is the silent type, she talks sparingly and she is very hard-working. She cooked for the us, tended to my wounds and consoled me whenever I felt sad..." We descend the swirling staircase in silence. "What about your mother?"

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my m

Sophia wondered what was happening; wasn't she supposed to be angry? "Mum," she called, and her mother nodded her head and moved closer to her. "You don't have to worry; I wish I could bring you guys back together. I can see it in both of your eyes. Instead of the love between you guys depreciating despite everything, it's becoming stronger. What does a mother seek if not their children's happiness? My blessing is always with you in everything. You gave up your love just for us. How can I be angry with you when you are being forced to leave the relationship?" She wrapped her arms around Sophia and spoke about the love between a mother and her children, her words were filled with tenderness a

My mother's words made me feel less worried and I began to believe in myself. "Do you think so?"I asked doubtfully and she nodded at my words. "You didn't give up on me even if I couldn't remember you. You were patient with me and above all…you took good care of me and I felt loved after long years of feeling lonely."She said and tears flowed from my eyes. "Those are qualities of a good mother. They never give up because they know someone is looking up to them. They are always patient with their kids because they are learning."My mother's words were enough to make me feel better and I wrapped my hands around her so tightly.

“... but I’m not sure if I’ll ever be okay.” My mother’s eyes softened. She gathered me in her arms, rocking me back and forth. “I know it may not feel like it right now,” she muttered, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “But we will heal together, my darling daughter.” She brushed her lips against my forehead in a feather-like kiss. “We are all here for you, always.” Her eyes drifted between everyone in the room. Maternal warmth and love only a mother could provide at such a vulnerable moment consumed me.

Mother said again. “Mother, Sully is not coming back,” I said gently. “She is. You don’t know. I am her mother. I can feel her getting nearer. I want to be for her. I know she needs me. I know she wants me to hold her. I would forever be by her side from now on. I will never leave her alone again.” I nodded at Jace who picked Mother up and carried her to bed. I touched her forehead. She was burning up.

I ignored her. I wasn’t going to give her any attention. “How are you?” she asked. I cocked my brow, “You care?” The sound of her slurping on her drink echoed through the room, “Don’t be silly, I am your mother, I will always care.” Right. Mothers only break their daughters to feel good. To show they love. I should give her an award. Her eyes took in my form, “Where are you going?” “What do you want to do? Sabotage this one too?” I hissed.

He has known her for the longest, he had given up the quickest. “Why do you think I care about that?” He finally asked me in return. I felt the same way. I wanted to hide my anger and sadness by pretending that I didn’t even care in the first place. She was our mother, the whole world had told us that mothers were supposed to be kind and loving, while ours went away for days and didn’t even leave us with any food. It felt better not to care, even if you did. “She is in a bad state,” I told him gently. “If I had sent her away… She’d be dead within months.”

And I had walked straight into it, confident, impatient, desperate. “How did I fall for this?” I muttered, fury rising like heat. “How did I let them play me?” “Because you care,” my mother whispered, eyes soft despite her bruises. “And caring is both your strength and your weakness.” “Like your father.” Before I could respond, the heavy iron door shrieked open. A slice of blinding light cut into the darkness. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Echoing. I stiffened, instinct sharpening. My mother straightened as much as she could, her posture tense, protective, despite her injuries.