“Oh, you know. Everything’stoofine.Toopeaceful…” She paused, laughing. “Too quiet without you and Clara.”
A soft ache ran through my heart despite the lightness in her voice. I missed my parents—especially during times like this, when the distance felt sharper, crueler.
“We miss you too,” I admitted. “Clara won’t stop asking when Grandma and Grandpa are coming to visit again.”
My mother’s eyes brightened with immediate excitement.
“It’s decided. We’ll be there in two weeks. Your dad already booked the flights. We’re not waiting a day longer than we have to before we see our girls!”
Warmth spread through me so fast it almost hurt.
The distance was hard—especially because it hadn’t been my choice. It was just one more thing he had taken from me with his cruel arrogance.
I closed my eyes briefly, shutting the thought down the second it tried to form. Over time I had learned how to erase thatman from my mind, shove him into a distant, locked place where he couldn’t reach me.
Survival.
When I opened my eyes again, I focused on my mother’s familiar, loving face and forced a lighter tone.
“Then we’ll start counting the days. Clara’s going to lose her mind when she finds out you’re coming.”
My mother smiled, but her expression shifted—just slightly. Cautious. Careful.
“Sweetheart… are you really okay? You know, it’s that time of year, and…” She hesitated. “I just want to make sure you’re truly okay.”
I drew in a slow breath, feeling the real concern behind her words through the screen. No matter how many years passed, she always grew restless around this time—close to the anniversary of the day I was left at the altar.
A scar she carried almost as deeply as I did.
“Mom, I’m fine. Really. We’ve talked about this so many times,” I said gently, trying to ease her. “That’s all behind me. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m over it. I swear.”
She sighed and shook her head.
“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re strong and that you’ve moved on. But a mother is a mother. She never stops worrying, no matter how much her daughter insists everything is fine.”
I laughed softly.
“I think I understand that now that I have Clara. But please—don’t worry. My life is here. My heart is here. With my daughter, with everything we’ve built. Nothing can change that.”
She nodded, satisfied, her smile soft and full of love.
“That’s all I wanted to hear. And remember—we’re always here for you, no matter the distance. Okay?”
“I know. I love you and Dad.”
“We love you too. And very soon we’ll be there to spoil our granddaughter into absolute ruin,” she finished, playful again.
When the call ended, I stared at my phone for a few seconds, letting that familiar warmth settle inside me—the safety only my mother could bring.
And still, the ache returned. Not just for my parents, but for the life I’d left behind in São Paulo. The everyday closeness with them was yet another thing taken from me—without my permission, without my choice.
But now I had Clara. I had my bakery. I had Tiradentes. I had Júlia. I had people who loved us.
I had built a new life.
Not the life I once dreamed of—but a life filled with love, purpose, and strength.
And no one would ever take it from me again.
