Seira Lee De Vera used to be that quiet, kind girl in high school. The one who never made trouble, who sat in the corner of the classroom with a gentle smile and eyes that always seemed a little tired. She never had many friends... just two. And now, at 42, even those two were long gone.
It's been 20 years since Alona Bennet cut ties with her. And Alona had her reasons.
Seira chose Max. The man she now calls her husband. The same man who no longer has time for her or their three kids. The same man Alona warned her about, again and again. But Seira didn't listen. She never did... not when it came to love.
What shattered Alona the most wasn't just Seira's choice to stay. It was the way she built a story around it piece by piece until even the lies started to sound gentle. Seira didn't scream or defend him loudly. She didn't argue. She just smiled, softly, and said she was happy. Like the right words could make it all real. Like she could convince not just Alona, but herself too.
Even if she never said a word, the signs were still there... bruises that didn't show on the skin but felt deeper, revealing themselves in the way she walked like she was always bracing for something, in the way her smile looked practiced, like it was meant to convince everyone else more than herself.
Alona could see it. Anyone who truly looked could.
Seira knows deep in her heart that this situation doesn't make her happy at all but she thinks that there's no other way to escape her situation at all. She tells Alona that she was pregnant from her first baby Thia and she doesn't want to let her child grow without a father or experience a broken family because all her life she's living and lucky to have a complete and loving family.
Seira knows, somewhere deep in her heart, that this life isn't what happiness is supposed to feel like, but every time she tries to imagine a way out, her mind goes blank, like there's no exit, no option that wouldn't end in more damage than staying ever could. She once told Alona that when she found out she was pregnant with Thia, her first baby, everything shifted because she couldn't bring herself to raise a child without a father, couldn't imagine letting her daughter grow up in a broken home, not when she herself had been raised in a house filled with warmth and laughter, where both parents were always around, where love didn't feel earned... it just existed.
In that moment, she still remembered how Alona yelled at her and how her voice rose louder than Seira had ever heard it before.
"You're smart, Seira. One of the smartest in our whole batch, even in university. But when it comes to love? You throw all of that away. After everything Max has said to you... how he twisted your words, how he made you push your friends away just so he could have you all to himself, how he dragged you into his isolated little world because he didn't know how to live in yours... you still chose him."
Alona's voice was shaking then, not just with anger, but with something heavier.
"Don't you see? You're starting to mirror him," Alona said, her voice trembling with frustration. "It's not just love anymore, Seira. He's controlling you... like his hands are always around your neck, tightening every time you try to live on your own. This version of you... it's not the girl I used to know. You were the quiet one, the one who could always tell right from wrong, who never threw herself into something just to end up hurt. But now?"
She paused, eyes scanning Seira's face, as if trying to find a piece of the old her.
"You gave up your dreams before they even had a chance to grow, all because he said staying home was 'better for you.' You're stuck in a house that's not even paid off. And he accused you of cheating for what? Just because you smiled at someone? Just because he's paranoid that another man might see your worth when he's the one who keeps tearing it down?"
Alona's voice cracked.
"Look at yourself, Seira and try to look at the mirror. You're still in your twenties, but you already look so worn down... tired, older, like all the light's been pulled out of you. This isn't love anymore. It's like you've been drugged by his attention, blinded by the version of him you keep holding on to, and it's slowly destroying you."
That's what Alona told her that day, but Seira can't remember what she said back... maybe she didn't say anything at all, maybe the words were stuck somewhere deep in her chest, tangled, too heavy to come out Max had just gotten his new job around then, she remembers that clearly... how excited he was, how fast he moved, how he said they were going to have a good life now, finally, like all the hard parts were behind them. He found that house the same week, said it was perfect, said it was theirs... said everything with so much certainty she didn't know how to say no. And he used to be good, honestly, he did. A gentleman, overly romantic even... always showing up with gifts and poems, handwritten letters folded into the corners of her bag, the kind of things that made her blush even when she was annoyed at him He never missed a holiday, always brought something for her mom, always told her she was the only girl for him, over and over like he was afraid she might forget. He was sweet, but also a little too intense. Obsessed, maybe, but she didn't call it that back then. She thought that's what love looked like when it was real But things started to shift after that fight, the one about the guy she was just talking to, nothing even happened. He saw something in it that wasn't there and from then on it was like every man in her life became a threat, like he thought they were all waiting for the chance to take her away from him It became harder to go out, harder to laugh freely, harder to even breathe sometimes without feeling like she had to explain herself. Now even seeing Alona means asking permission, checking his mood, waiting for the right moment to bring it up. She hates that she has to think that way but she does and it's hard, it's honestly so hard, being with someone who loves you in a way that feels more like a prison than a promise