The world looked freshly washed, as if the rain had rinsed away its sins. Trees glistened with silver droplets, and the cloudy sky stretched wide, soft and endless. Puddles shimmered on the roads, reflecting laughter. Children ran barefoot, giggling, while others pedaled their bicycles with careless joy. A group sat on the curb, munching on hot french fries—no doubt bought from the little shop outside the society gate. It was a sight so simple, yet so achingly beautiful. A sight untouched by worry. A sight of freedom.
A girl sat on a wooden bench, her loose blue shirt brushing against printed trousers that swayed gently in the breeze. A pair of glasses framed her dark brown eyes—large, soulful, and crowned with long lashes. Her cheeks held a natural blush, her lips a soft baby-pink, as though painted by innocence itself. She watched the scene before her with a quiet smile.
To her right rose a tall building, eight or nine floors high, its balconies alive with life. Women stood with their daughters or husbands, leaning against the railings, laughing, gossiping, and watching the rain. When she turned her gaze to the other three buildings around her, she found the same sight—families gathered, sharing simple joy beneath the cloudy sky. She smiled again, her heart warmed. What a comforting sight.
In front of her, tall trees swayed gracefully, dancing with the rhythm of the breeze. She closed her eyes, letting the cool air brush against her face. A shiver ran through her, but instead of retreating, she welcomed it, smiling softly. There was no doubt—nature always wore the colors of the spirit.
"Today, I want to ask you something… as a friend."
The voice startled her, gentle yet steady. She turned her head toward the woman sitting beside her. Her long, dark brown hair framed a face with the same deep eyes as the girl's—eyes that mirrored each other like a reflection. Faint wrinkles traced the corners of her skin, but they did nothing to dim her beauty. If anything, they whispered of a time when she had been radiant, effortlessly so. She wore a long shirt with loose trousers, a light scarf draped around her neck, her presence calm yet striking.*
"Yes, Mom," she replied with a soft smile.
Her mother's eyes lingered on her as she spoke. "You'll be turning twenty-seven next month… and I realized, I've never truly asked you this before. What do you want in your life?"
The girl's smile faltered. For a moment, silence pressed between them. She turned to look at her mother, her lips curving again—but this time, it was a painful smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. Emotions welled up, threatening to spill, yet she held them back.
"Aren't you a little late to ask that?" she said—her voice polite, but laced with quiet sarcasm, trembling with the weight of old wounds.
Her mother felt the words like a blade. It was as if something heavy had gripped her heart, squeezing tight. Still, she forced her face to remain calm, hiding the ache that burned deep inside.
"No… I just wanted to ask," her mother said softly. "You're doing your research now—you're an MPhil scholar. Soon, you'll have your degree. And after everything… after your recent breakup, the one that shattered your heart into pieces… what do you want to do next?"
She rose from the bench as she spoke, her scarf shifting with the breeze, and gestured gently. "Come… let's walk."
She rose to her feet beside her mother, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Sometimes," she said softly, still smiling, "it feels like you don't really know me at all, Mom."
Her mother looked at her with questioning eyes.
She smiled gently. "He didn't hurt me, Mom. From the beginning, I knew we couldn't last. The first time he hurt me, I cried—I wanted to leave him right then. But soon I realized it wasn't love… it was an addiction. In just one and a half months, I had become addicted to him. So I stayed… until I broke free of that addiction. And then, I left—just like that."
Her mother's eyes widened in shock.
The girl's smile shifted, curling into something darker—a smile that carried both power and warning. It wasn't the smile of a broken heart, but the smile of someone who had survived it. A smile sharp enough to destroy anything that dared to hurt her again.
"Did you… play him? Are you becoming a player?" her mother asked, disbelief heavy in her voice.
The girl let out a soft sigh, her eyes lowering for a moment. In that silence, the ache returned—the quiet reminder that her mother still didn't truly know her. Then she lifted her gaze and smiled faintly.
"No, Mom. I'm not a player. I just can't stay around someone who hurts me.
"That was your third relationship… and none of them lasted more than three months," her mother said quietly.
The girl only smiled, meeting her mother's eyes. Then she laughed lightly and gave a playful wink.
"And it was always me, Mom. I was the one who ended things. I was the one who dumped them."
"But you're wrong, Mom," Velora corrected with a smile that carried both pride and irony. "One lasted two years, another six months, and the last… three months." She said it as if it were some kind of achievement, her tone calm, almost playful.
Her mother stared at her in disbelief, her patience thinning. Finally, she asked again, her voice firm this time.
"What do you want in your life, Velora?"
It was no longer curiosity—it was desperation, as though she were done circling around her daughter's walls.
Velora returned to the bench and sat down, a soft smile on her lips. "Right now, let's just have some tea. I'm craving it," she said lightly.
Her mother studied her closely. Her daughter looked younger than her years—her small face still carrying a trace of innocence. Yet her eyes… those eyes spoke louder than words. They held a power that could burn anyone alive, eyes that could never hide emotion.
Yes, her eyes. They were her inheritance—passed down from her mother, who once had the same fire. But where Velora's eyes glimmered with unspoken strength, her mother's now carried the weight of survival. They told stories of pain no one could imagine, of battles fought silently.
She looked at her daughter with a tenderness that welled up into tears, though she didn't let them fall. Instead, she prayed silently in her heart:
"God, please… don't let her suffer. Bring happiness into her life. Let someone enter her world who loves her so deeply, so purely, that she forgets her wounds and learns to feel love again—real love."
Her mother rose, giving a small nod of indication before heading off to make tea.
Velora stayed on the bench, her gaze drifting once again to the world around her. The scenery was the same—the freshly washed trees, the damp streets glistening under a pale sky—but her emotions were not.
She lifted her eyes to the heavens where a flock of birds soared freely now that the rain had passed. A painful, sarcastic smile curved across her lips.
Everything is so carefree, she thought. Carefree childhood. Carefree laughter. Carefree love.
Her eyes lowered to her feet, and the light within them shifted—darkened. Fire and pain swirled there, spilling out in silence. She smiled again, but this smile never touched her eyes.
People think heartbreak comes from lovers, her thoughts whispered like venom. But they don't know the real kind—the heartbreak that comes from your own blood. The kind that shatters you long before you even know what love is…