Read Slave of the blue eyes :: 19

“They were right—you’re the useless one!” cried the little boy, his voice trembling with sorrow. “But my sister, she didn’t listen to them. She’s the foolish one!” He fought to hold back his tears, but they spilled over, unchecked. “You left us! You abandoned us! They mock us because of you! They call us liars! They even try to hit us! It’s all your fault! Why did you even have us? What sin did we commit to deserve this?” His voice rose in anguish, though he didn’t know the full truth.

“Go! Just leave! Escape again! I don’t understand why Father won’t let you go!” he shouted, hiccuping, tears streaking down his flushed face. His eyes, once bright, now mirrored the depths of his despair, a haunting blue. “You heartless woman!”

Amara gazed at the little boy, her heart aching. *He’s right. He bears Max’s resemblance, and his tears are a desperate plea for me. This isn’t a lie. Am I really his mother? Are they alive? His tears don’t look fake. Or am I just a fool once again?*

But the boy’s voice shattered her thoughts, filled with raw anguish. “You have no right to cry or look at me! My sister might be a fool, but I’m not. You are not my mother! Leave!” His voice trembled with fear, yet he stood his ground, refusing to back away.

Amara was taken aback. *Crying? Am I?* She suddenly realized she was weeping, her body reacting without her consent, the weight of her emotions spilling forth like a flood she could no longer contain.

Amara remained still at the window, her heart heavy. “Do you want me to leave?” she asked, gazing into his tear-filled blue eyes, which felt like daggers piercing her soul.

“Yes! Don’t ever come back! We don’t need you!” the boy replied, his small hands desperately trying to wipe away his tears.

“Then why are you crying?” she pressed, stepping closer.

“It’s happy tears,” he said with a painful laugh, though his tears continued to flow uncontrollably. “I’m just glad I was right, not the wrong one.”

Amara knelt down to meet his gaze, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Go! Leave!” the little boy insisted, but he didn’t push her away.

“I don’t want to leave,” she whispered into his ear, her voice breaking.

“Leave,” he murmured, almost inaudibly.

“I can’t leave,” Amara replied, her heart shattering.

In that moment, silence enveloped them, and the boy began to release his grief. He cried like a baby, clinging to her as if she were his only refuge. They both wept together, lost in their pain, embracing tightly as the flood of emotions poured out. He was screaming, crying, trembling and hugging her.