Novel & Cerita Story Of 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

Living and growing up without her mother's love made her thirsty for love, and when she felt thirsty, Fisya came to shower her with love and affection as the figure she had longed for. He doesn't care if the woman is not his biological mother. As long as he can be with her, he doesn't need anything else. The obsession made him feel out of control. His love for Fisya was unbearable. He stopped. “Why are there so many bad people? Yet Mother is a good person?” she whispered as she sobbed. Annoyed, Regan returned to her room and slammed the door violently, making a loud thump that deafened the ears of anyone who heard it, including Fisya, who was removing her makeup.

She sighed as she said-" Well... this is a long story. It started when I was born. I am the lost princess of Doah. My father after he has been cursed began to live a life like a mad person. When I was born he was angry as he believed killing me will give him a son. My mother gave me away to her sister, where I was brought up. My mother told him that she did kill me. Soon after a year she again gave birth to a daughter. My father became so angry when he killed both of them with his bare hand. All these years I have never known who are my parents. Two years ago, my mother, the one who raised me told me about my father who was still alive. He was on his death bed. " She had tears in her eyes wh

He should have stayed dead, and now he can truly be dead. “My mother was Suzu Ayako Yashida. She was a compassionate and beautiful woman inside and out. She was a woman who tried to see the good in everyone, even though it cost her more than once. My mom loved me from the moment she knew she was expecting till the day she was cruelly taken from me. She loved my father from the day they met to the day she died, even if she knew he wasn’t her soulmate.” I got a bit emotional, my voice raising an octave as I told this asshole where I come from.

My palm crashed against my face once more, harder than before, my head jerking sideways from the force My Aunt had spent years dodging every question, changing every subject whenever I brought them up, but I was nineteen and stubborn and desperate. I had knelt in front of her. Begged her not to keep anything from me anymore. Begged her to tell me what happened to my mother and when she finally did, I wished she hadn't. My mother had suffered through the pregnancy. She'd been in and out of hospitals. She'd spent nights in pain. She'd endured complication after complication but she never once gave up because she wanted me that badly.

"She is now my daughter-in-law." Hodja's expression was still, then he gasped and let out an exasperated scoff. Turning to her with angry, pained eyes, he shook his head, his voice soft. "Mom?" He breathed out a laugh. "No. There is no such thing as a mother. Then tell me..." He demanded fiercely. "What mother would push their children into an orphanage? What mother would leave their children to beg on the streets? A mother who abandons her children without any means is not a mother. The children were left behind without a roof over their heads, without food, and without clothes. When they were sick and almost died, when they were beaten, the woman called Mother Where?"

Because even though my relationship towards my father was kinda tough, my mother was like the sun that melts away the coldness of his treatment. "Absolutely," she nodded, her gaze drifting to the blooming flowers. "It's a journey of discovery, of nurturing a new life while discovering new facets of yourself." Our conversation drifted into shared moments of motherhood—her experiences nurturing me, guiding me through life's twists and turns. In that garden, amidst the tranquility of nature, I felt the depth of her love and the timeless connection between a mother and her child. The stories she shared painted a picture of love and strength, affirming the profound impact of a mother's love from

For this, I don't feel the need to lie to my mother. "Photo?" “Ho oh, a photo of my mother with Aunt Donna, Aunt Ratna, Uncle Jackson and… Uncle Rhicard” Mother's face instantly turned pale when she heard Uncle Richard's name come out of my lips. Mother's hand that stroked my head stopped for a moment. I could see her eyes were staring with various kinds of emotions dancing in them. "Honey, would you like to hear a story?" Mother asked in a sad voice "A story about an orphan girl who fights against this world.."

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!]

"But he's your brother! Your father and I love you so much, but we haven't raised you so that you could kill your brother!" Andrew laughed with bitter irony. "My dear mother, you were the one who told the entire rescue team not to save him. If I'm the murderer, then you are nothing less than an accomplice!" Finally, Mom understood the full weight of her mistakes over all these years. She clutched my urn, weeping uncontrollably and refusing to let go. "Frank… I was wrong. I'm so sorry. I regret everything, son!" Dad, mortified and furious, pointed an accusing finger at Mom. "Look at the son you've raised! He's a murderer! If I'd known, I never would've married you!"