Mother Novels Novels & Stories

I cried as I answered, "My mother-in-law sold Cara to Hans!" When the neighbors heard it, some were whispering, some were shocked, but most of them were furious. Many of those present were parents whose children had been cruelly murdered by Hans. A young woman stepped up and said, "Don't worry. We've been neighbors for so many years and all watched Cara growing up. We won't stand by and do nothing when she's in trouble." "Me too!" "Count me in!" "And me!" Despite how noisy it had become around me, everyone picked up a weapon. All of them genuinely wanted to help.

I walked over to the balcony, enjoying the wind before softly replying, "I've called you like this several times before, Yohan." It was also my first time being a mother. I felt anxious and did not know what to do every time Julian got sick. Even with the family doctor present, I still called Yohan with trembling hands. My voice broke whenever I begged for him to come home. However, I could still recall his icy reply back then. I replied, "You told me, it's one thing I couldn't take care of myself, but how could I fail to take care of Juli as well?" "Naomi, I—" Yohan's voice was hoarse.

My death caused a huge stir in the neighborhood. I had always been known as a diligent and hardworking student, so people found it impossible to believe that I had been abused at home for being lazy. Some classmates who had been close to me posted the story online. In their posts, they listed all the favoritism my mom had shown over the years, along with that ridiculous software she had created. The story quickly spread across the internet. Netizens flooded the comment sections. [Does a woman like this even deserve to be called a mother? She must be punished!]

“Jonathan, I was wrong. I really know that now. Could you forgive me this time? “My mother’s old. She can’t handle any more stress. Besides, I already lost my job. If this keeps going, my family and I will be done for. “Could you speak up for me and my mother online? Jonathan, I’m begging you.” I was indifferent. “What does this have to do with me? You and your mother caused this trouble.” Amelia was upset with my indifferent treatment toward her. She stepped closer and anxiously said, “Jonathan, how could you say that? We’re supposed to spend our lives together.”

She didn’t even remember what she looked like. Her Mother had been a whore, like the others. Madame refused to speak of her except for the manner in which she had perished. Consumption had swept through the brothel that winter. It had taken many lives, including that of her Mother. Annabelle had been three. Sometimes, on the bitterest of days, Annabelle secretly wished the disease had taken her as well. It would have spared her the horror that was to come.

"Heidi, you're literally going to be in heaven with these toys." "Oh, sweetie, could you help me with these things? I want to know how they work. I looked it up online, but I still have some questions. I want to use them tonight," my mother said to Melissa while I stood there shocked, staring at her. My mother was a respectable lady. Since my father left her, she had never gotten involved with another man, and that was thirteen years ago. She was a fifty-six-year-old lady, still very beautiful, blonde with green eyes, slim figure, and very active, but surely she didn't think about these things anymore. She was my mother! She was a saint! Or wasn't she?

She seems nervous. I frown, "Okay, Mom." She opens the door to a room, and I'm speechless, it's not white, it's a deep maroon color. The room is bigger than Lacey's, and that's something I didn't think could be possible. There's a sofa in the corner and beside it is a small bookcase. Walking into the room, I walk over to the bookcase and run my fingers across the spines of the books that are there. Mom went all out. She bought books from my favorite authors. Nora Roberts, Harper Sloan, Carly Phillips, and of course E.L. James. I love the story of Christian and Ana, it's such a beautiful love story.

April read out loud. It was a poem written by her daughter ages ago. April's heart clenched as her eyes scanned the note to read the lines penned by her daughter. My mother is... I'm sure I've heard it all. My mother is strong. She broke the stereotype of being a single mother. My mother is resilient. She raised me alone and did one hell of a job. I have medals and enough straight As to attest to that. My mother is smart. I have never had to worry about money.

BELLA’S POV Monday arrived like Monday always arrived. Except it didn’t, quite. There was a new quality to it — not the dramatic new quality of the previous Monday, not the Reeves-and-the-file and it’s-on-the-news Monday. The quieter new quality of a house that had been through something large and was now moving through the days on the other side of it. My mother applied for the job on Monday morning.

She nodded and picked one of her favorite books from Colleen Hover; It Ends with Us. I went to the receptionists and told them never to power on the television in my mom’s room. They should disconnect it completely to avoid her watching any news. Mom did not like watching television anyway, she preferred to read books and novels. This was why my father married her, she was book-smart and very beautiful. I took those qualities from her.