Alyssa’s gaze was a complex tapestry of emotions, and in the corners of her eyes, the remnants of tears shimmered.
Agnes felt a shiver of fear at the sight.
Straightening up in her seat, Agnes asked, “How long was I out?”
Alyssa, dabbing her eyes casually, replied, “Two hours.”
Agnes just nodded in response.
Alyssa turned away, but Agnes couldn’t help herself and asked, “Alyssa, what’s wrong?”
After a heavy silence, Alyssa admitted, “Nothing, really. It’s just… when I look at you, I can’t help but think about your mother Julia.”
The mention of her mother stirred a whirlwind of emotions in Agnes.
“Alyssa, can you tell me about my mom’s past?” Agnes pleaded.
Her mother was an enigma to her, a gentle and loving mystery. Agnes had never known the countless stories that must have woven through her life.
For years, Agnes had harbored a deep-seated hate for Alyssa, a hate that had been twisted and turned by time and space, from bone-deep loathing to guilt over misunderstandings.
Her memories of her mother were too faint, yet the longing remained.
Agnes had never heard much from Alyssa about Julia, but she could tell that Alyssa held a special place in her heart for Julia.
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