For as long as I can remember, my mother has never been a warm, caring person. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/bfaf3f/620x0/1/0/2025/03/15/ojtlnnuqdvkurxsula1jnznrr8o79kftkrkpbbqxkur.jpg" alt = "from life taken." Quot; Mother always considered me her biggest mistake & quot;: Now she expects me to take care of her " styles = "background-color: rgba (212,206,199.0.5)" > < p > she didn't hug me to sleep, she didn't ask how my day was over.

< p > She didn't wait for me with dinner, she didn't call when I was coming back p & oacute;

< p > she didn't care what I feel, what I am afraid of, what I want.

< p > Always m & oacute; one wiped:

< p > — I shouldn't have children. You are my biggest mistake.

< p > When I was a child, I would deserve her love.

< p > I brought good grades, I cleaned the house, I did everything to make it look at me for a moment.

< p > but she never did it.

< p > — Don't think that it changes something.

< p > looked at me with cold eyes.

< p > — If it wasn't for you, my life would look different.

< p > so I finally stopped trying.

< p > and I promised myself that when I grow up, I would disappear from her life forever.

< p > years passed.

< p > I moved out, started my own family.

< p > never called.

< p > She never asked how I feel.

< P >She was a stranger for me, someone I no longer had to love.

< p > until that day.

< p > The phone rang p & oacute;

< p > — Your mother needs help.

< p > I froze.

< p > — She is sick. She can't do it by itself.

< p > — And what ? — I said bitterly. & Amp; MDASH; I have to throw everything now and look after her ?

< p > There was silence in the phone.

< p > — You are her c & oacute; rky.

< p > — And she was once my mother ?

< p > I couldn't sleep.

~ P > I was thinking about a woman who never loved me.

< p > about her empty house, in which & oacute; rhyme was sitting alone now.

< p > with her cold eyes, in which I have never seen heat.

< p > Should I go to her ?

< p > Did I have something to owe ?

< p > or in og < p > The next day I stood in front of her door.

< p > I knocked.

< p > After a while I heard quiet steps.

< p > The door opened and it stood in them.

< p > older. Weaker.

< p > but still the same.

< p > She looked at me for a moment, as if she didn't believe that I really came.

< p > — I thought you would leave me.

< p > her voice trembled.

< p > I laughed bitterly.

< p > — You left me a long time ago.

< p > I don't know why I came.

< p > I don't know why I didn't close this door forever.

< p > but one thing was certain.

< p > I was no longer a little girl who begs her love for her love.

< p > I was a woman who did not forget.

< p > and kt

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116