Novelas y relatos de Mothers Warmth Chapter 2

Chapter 210 She opened her eyes to the small sounds of cooing, the tiny hands pressing against the blankets. Her heart swelled in an instant, a warmth so fierce and tender it made her chest ache. The baby stirred, stretching little limbs, eyes half-open, already curious about the world. She reached out tentatively, letting her fingers brush against the soft cheek.

Her skin was dull, smudged with days of exhaustion and despair, and her scent—usually a warm, familiar blend of cedar and wildflowers—was tainted, unfamiliar, like an intrusion on her very soul. Her mother gasped, her face turning a sickly shade of white. She closed the door quickly, locking it behind her. “Oh, my child,” she whispered, her hands trembling as she reached out and pulled Channary into her arms, cradling her, the way she had when Channary was small and scared of thunderstorms. “What happened to you?” Channary pressed herself into her mother’s warmth, feeling a flicker of the safety she once knew, but even her mother’s arms felt hollow, offering a comfort that felt somehow stole

The chaos had become distant and muffled as I succumbed to the darkness. The warm, gentle touch of my mother’s hands continued to ground me in what was left of reality. Her face was so close that I could see the concern etched into every line and wrinkle. She was fighting for me, sending energy into me, and I could feel it in every fiber of my being. I could see her face become pale and haggard as she gave up her strength to imbue it into me.

“We’re going to need it come winter.” “More than that.” Father admitted worriedly. We both looked at him. “Don’t worry, My Girls.” He strung sheltering arms around us and guided us toward the fire. “Let’s warm up.” I felt comforted by the heat of the flame in our Main Room and soon I found myself resting my head on mother’s lap. Feeling her reassuring hand stroking my hair. Though I was now a woman grown, I still found her touch vastly reassuring. And I felt small and vulnerable, and her touch took all that away. Seeing my father so close, staring into the dancing flames, comforted me.

Why would he even think he has any right to mark me? “There is,” Mom replies, pressing her palm to my forehead to check my temperature. “Her temperature is dangerously high. She needs to be put in cold water, with you in the tub to keep her steady. It should help bring her temperature down.” She rises, moving toward the bathroom. “No!” I croak, grabbing her hand weakly to stop her. “I’m cold. I don’t want cold water to touch me.” The words scrape out of my throat like sandpaper. Speaking feels like it’s draining the last of my strength.

DEMIAN 𓆩♡𓆪 I hadn’t moved from this chair in two hours. And I didn’t want to. Mom’s hand was warm in mine, actually warm, not the cold frightening warmth of someone the machines were fighting to keep present, but real warmth. The kind that meant her body knew it was still here. I sat with that and didn’t do anything else. No phone. No thinking. Just her breathing and the quiet hum of the machines and the specific relief of a man who had been white-knuckling his way through the worst weeks of his life and had finally been allowed to let go.

****Chloe**** That something is warm and makes my body warm up. It feels so good after today. The warmth moves up and down on my arm. It must be my dream already. I must be so sleepy that I immediately fall asleep and a nice dream welcomes me. The warmth now changes direction and caresses my side with slow circles. It feels like a palm on my body but I don't complain because this feels so good. I push my body closer to this warmth because I want to feel it more intensely. A moan leaves my lips and I feel that I start to turn on.

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

Unlike in Chaira's second life where she is still slightly affected after being given the chance to live and start over again, it seemed, her heart was already so numb she didn't even feel anything when her own biological mother stared at her with malicious eyes. The familiar warmth and care that should be present in every mom's eye when looking at their child, were nowhere to be seen. Maybe that's the reason why she doesn't care about it anymore.. Chaira slowly took a deep breath, leaning her side on the handrails of the stairs, her eyes lowered. "Maybe," Chaira talked back with a slight smile. Chaira mother, who turned her back from Chaira and was about to go down to entertain the 'guest'

a deep voice whispered, but I couldn't make out the words. All I knew was that I needed that safety. I reached out blindly, grabbed onto the heat source, and pulled it into my arms. Suddenly, the world spun. I hit something hard and hot—a wall of muscle—and we fell onto the soft bedding together. It was so warm. The heat started chasing away the chill in my bones. It had to be my mother protecting me. "Mom..." I pressed closer to the heat, seeking more warmth. "Mom, I missed you so much..."