[quick author's note: GUYS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! POWER HAS 11K READS IN JUST 2 DAYS' TIME! So to thank you guys I'm releasing this chapter earlier than planned 😊😍💖💖 I better finish my schoolwork ASAP and write more haha]

SHE WHOM I never wanted to meet ever again, met again.

She whom I despised with the entirety of my soul, met again.

She whom was embedded so deeply into my memories, who inflicted suffering upon me, met again.

I hated her, and yet here she was, at the entrance of my main door, awaiting me to let her in my loft.

My loft.

My sacred space, my pristine, clean home that I bought with my own hard-earned money. My sacred space, where only the people I hold most dear can enter.

I'll die before she steps foot into my home. Even in Death, my ghost will linger and watch over my home, never ever letting even her reincarnated forms to go into my home.

Thank goodness I have an intercom system that allows me to see who wants to enter my house. Without it, she would have already had her filthy self in my haven.

"Iri, who is it?" Joaquim calls and stretches his arms lazily, his eyes still obviously heavy with sleep even though he just woke up from a five-hour nap. 'Nap'.

The temptation to tease him about being so sloth-like is irresistible, but not today. Not now. I have to chase him back to sleep, tell him that I'll be busy for a few hours before he gets a chance to meet her-

Brriiinngggg!

Damn you, mum. The sheer cheek of you. You'll never get to meet him. That I promise you.

Unfortunately for me, Joaq is gradually regaining his senses and being more awake by the seconds. Time is a-ticking and-

BRRIIIINGGG!

As if on cue, chaos ensues the moment my mum presses the bell.

To my horror, Joaq answers, and lets her in.

It is only a small mercy that I shoved her hard enough to have her stumble and trip over her heels which prevents my space from being tainted by her presence.  

"Irina!" Aghast, Joaq kindly offers to help her up. She doesn't take his hand though- she must have seen my piercing glare. "Whatever did you do that for?" Joaquim yells, truly abashed and I know he's going to apologise so I tell him, "That woman is my mother. Was my mother."

___

Every couple has secrets between them. There is no way anybody can have nothing to hide from their loved ones.

My mother is my secret. A dirty secret. 

I mean ya, I did tell Joaq about her before we got together. It was the night when I received my first paycheck of $30k, and Pat, Libby and Joaq were invited over to join the celebration. Thanks to Pat puking on Libby's Chanel dress, Joaq and I had some alone time, which somehow led to me spilling the beans about my family. Because of a game, I think.

While Joaq may know the full story of my neglectful childhood, I doubt that he knows how deep my hatred runs for her.

Almost impossibly, it exploded when I found out about the expensive, rare jewelry in that dusty box. That accursed jewelry of hers had even caused the purest of soul, my Pat, to be temporarily focused on the worth and gold that the selling of the gems would bring.

Whatever my mother brings along with her, nothing good ever comes out of it.

Now, I'm in an ostentatious, high-end restaurant in Orina and the only reason I'm allowed in this high-class place is because of her. I was right about my theory regarding why she abandoned me, Ander and my sickly father.

She left us for riches. She really did.

Nothing else can sicken me more than knowing this. People always seem to think your parents will always be the one to protect you, to love you unconditionally and whatnot.

Society ingrains in us that family is forever and that family will sacrifice everything for the good of the family.

Well, how did I end up with such a rotten one then? Or am I somehow in the wrong? Was my mother abandoning me with an ill father and wannabe-MMA fighter of a brother for the good of the Pan family? Was I supposed to be bloody grateful for this?

Was I supposed to be grateful for having to be the head of the family at age 9, because no one else was responsible or sane enough to do the job?

I am not a pushover, someone to be messed with.

What am I is a grudge-holder, and this, what my mother chose to do to me, is something I can never forgive.

Her cliche plan is so obvious that I can see it in my mind: leave your teen, child and sickly husband to get rich. After getting rich, track them down if you need to and buy their love back with your newfound wealth. Become a family again. Live happily ever after. The end. 

Honestly, how naive can she be?

What kind of dreamworld had she been living in all these while when I only just fled away from my hellhole of a life? Frankly, I'd like to know where she managed to live an utopian life, seeing that she seems to be confident that I will come back and return to her loving arms and love her back unconditionally like a mindless fool. 

"My, my. Look at you, draped in luxurious fabrics and jewelry, looking like you're headed to meet the Met Gala instead of a cafe with your enemy. How's life in your utopian world? Wonderful, isn't it, to be free of your onerous burdens?" She and I both know who the 'onerous burdens' I am referring to. Me, my father and Anders. The ones she abandoned for a better life. "And you have the gall to call yourself a mother?" I scoff and cross my legs.

The woman in front of me does not respond to my spiteful comments or my scorning her; she just sits there demurely and sips her tea. I want to slap that cup of tea away from her and spill it all over her costly clothing.

I take the chance to observe her closely while silence hangs between us. For someone her age, she looks younger and livelier than ever. Her whole self is aglow with health, and happiness radiates from her as if she's the bloody beaming Sun personified. My sarcasm was greeted by derision as if they were mere lies and nothing more.

As if there weren't truths of the life I once led.

"How ironic," my mother says, rolling her eyes and folding her arms as she sets her cup down poisedly. "How ironic that you are denigrating me when you did the same things too." 

Ooh, so she's going to use low blows, eh? I see. How very original.

"I learnt from the very best. Though I must say, these aren't the kinds of things a child would want to learn from their mother. These aren't the things that get parents the 'Parent of the Year' award, you know."

It's like a game of tennis right now. We're each gripping onto our rackets tightly and fiercely concentrated on the battle right now, determined to keep the ball in the air or make our opponent unable to return the ball.

Right now, it's too early to see who's going to win. But this is something that I don't plan on losing.

"You abandoned your family, mother. Why?"

"For money."

Mother 1, Irina 0.

The nonchalant bluntness shocks even me into silence and I freeze on the spot as if I am being held at gunpoint. It didn't occur to me that she will have the sheer audacity to speak so casually and callously about something as sensitive as this.

Has her years of neglecting her duty as a mother made her lose her tact or has she always been this miscreant of a reprobate of a person that I didn't see because of my unguarded, unconditional former love for her as her flesh and blood?

For money.

"For money? What is so good about that that you'll heartlessly turn your back on them?"

"Do you know how old I was when I married your father?" My mother asks, her eyes suddenly shimmering with tears. "Do you know how old I was?"

I shake my head slowly, unsure of why she is suddenly telling me her life story. Doesn't she get the hint that I have no feelings of care or love towards her, and that I would love nothing more than to get out of here as long as I get the truth of why she deserted me?

"I was 22. Wedded to a man six years older than me at such a young age. Your grandparents warned me that while he may be more mature than me, his health is bound to fail sooner than mine. Age takes a toll on health, you know. But I was blinded by love. So I married him, believing that I can finally live out my ideal life and have a joyous marriage.

It's ironic how determined I was to have the longest marriage possible. I wanted to show the world that love conquers all, I guess. Again, I was young. And when you're young, you think that you're invincible." My mother sighs and her tone is so full of remorse that I find myself believing her and even sympathising with her.

I slowly let myself be reeled in by her woeful tale and forget about why I am here, forget about my lust for vengeance. Temporarily forget about why I despise her so much.

Instead, in that moment, I become a little girl again, doing everything I can to have her attention and be the only thing she's focused on at that moment.