She abandoned my father but fought for my custody, and I had always believed she loved me, that she couldn't bear to leave me. After all, what mother doesn't love her child?
But my experiences over the years taught me a harsh truth: women often love what they associate with. She hated my father, so she transferred that hatred onto me.
But why keep me close if she despised me?
"Enough, mom! You can endure, but I can't!" Oliva looked down at me with arrogance. "Only those who aren't loved are the third party. Henry and I truly love each other. You should've stepped aside long ago."
My mother stared at me, silent, her face flushing with a mix of anger and shame.
I struggled to process her words. So, according to her, only those who aren't loved are the third party. Did that mean Henry had never loved me?
Just then, hearing the commotion, Henry rushed over.
When he saw the standoff, he seemed to grasp the situation.
"Olivia, listen to me, I really want to marry you, believe me."
I shrugged off his hand from my shoulder. "You want to marry me, but you're with my sister?"
Henry stared at me in disbelief. "You already know? When did you find out?" He pointed angrily at Oliva. "Did she tell you?"
"If you don't want others to know, don't do it yourself. Henry, I've had enough of you these years. Let's break up."
With the goal achieved, Oliva laughed, linking her arm with Henry's.
"Alright, enough pretending. If you're not tired, I am."
She leaned in and kissed Henry on the cheek right in front of me.
My mother watched their intimate display without a word. She simply glanced at me, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes.
