Mothers Warmth Chapter 2 Novels & Stories

Where the warmth had always— *Always—* Been present. Even when she was at her lowest. Even when the pack had been cruelest. Even when she had been most alone and most convinced she was inadequate and most certain nothing would ever change— *The warmth.* Her mother. In the blood. *This whole time.* Luna breathed. Fought for composure. Found it. Held it. The way her mother's voice had held even in the memory. Fierce and clear and present even at the edge of everything.

I mused, my gaze fixed on the mesmerizing dance of the flames. The lines etched deep on Mother Tanna's face softened, revealing the wisdom she had gained from a lifetime of experiences. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine, her touch grounding me in the safety of her presence. "My dear, a mother's love is a divine gift, a sacred bond that transcends the realm of reason," she began, her voice holding the weight of countless untold stories. "It is an instinctual force, one that pushes us to protect and nurture our children with an unparalleled fervor."

Lionel nodded with a smile and they left for Rosita's ward. ROSITA'S WARD They got to Rosita's ward and Lionel slowly pushed the door open. Tears streamed down Riley's eyes on seeing how her mother lay unconscious on the bed. Lionel pushed her closer to her mother's bed. "Mum.." she called amidst tears as she neared her bed. She took her mother's hand into hers. "Your little girl is here mum...., can you hear me?" she uttered wiping the tears away from her eyes. "Do you know mum...Dad left us.." she replied sobbing.

I also thought that I have no choice so I will just do this to somehow reduce my mother's anger towards me End of Chapter - QJG

It seemed as though all my years of running away from this truth of mine was just vanity, futility. My door squeaked open slowly. I swayed my gaze towards the entrance and met with the warm eyes of my mother. She stood solemnly at the door which was still ajar. Her hands dangled in the green gown she wore. Her cobalt eyes peered at me tiredly. I sniffled and used the back of my hand to wipe my running nose. She remained still at the door as though scared of stepping into the room. I really wished she would encase me in a hug. I longed for her warmth. “Mamma…” I whispered after a while. Her eyes flickered at the echo of my voice but she didn’t react to it. I could see Matteo standing by the w

she exclaimed, her cheerful tone a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me. As I pushed open the heavy door to my mother's private chamber, I was immediately greeted by the familiar sight of two maids fussing around her. The room was a sanctuary of peace and sophistication, a reflection of my mother's refined taste and esteemed position. Soft light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow over the lavish décor. Sensing my melancholy, my mother, Vespera, intervened with her customary grace. "Please, leave us," she requested, her voice gentle yet commanding. The maids, ever obedient to her wishes, hurriedly departed, leaving us alone in the quiet chamber.

A mother's warmth that, though nearly extinguished, still left a small light to touch her. ​When Su Ying's weak fingers gently stroked her cheek, something within Sua crumbled. Unable to hold back, the girl bowed her head and embraced her mother's thin and frail body. She closed her eyes, burying her face in the woman's shoulder, as if wanting to absorb all the scent and warmth that she might not be able to feel for much longer.

Winter's POV "Explain." I stare at my mother. She stares right back. The problem isn't that I don't know what she's asking. The problem is that I know exactly what she's asking. The room feels entirely too warm all of a sudden. I look toward the window. The window offers no assistance. I look at the fireplace. The fireplace is equally useless. When I glance back, Mother is still waiting. Patiently. Terrifyingly. "That's a very broad request."

--- Ammie followed slowly. Stepping into the house— And immediately feeling it. Peace. Familiarity. Warmth. --- Her eyes moved around the room. Everything looked the same. Simple. Calm. Safe. --- “…I missed this,” she whispered. --- She walked toward her mum. Who was standing quietly in the kitchen. Not looking at her. --- Ammie moved closer. Then gently— She hugged her from behind. --- “I’m sorry,” she whispered. --- Her mum didn’t move at first.

The word came out like venom, bitter and burning on my tongue. My mother rose from her seat by the window, her silk skirts rustling as she quickly walked across the room toward me, her arms extended in a gesture of comfort I couldn't bear to accept. Her face was soft with maternal concern, her eyes glistening with unshed tears for my pain. "Celia, darling, listen to your father…" She reached out, trying to touch my trembling shoulder, her fingers gentle and warm, but I violently smacked her hand away.