Chapter 3: Going forward
I have to live this way, and I should.
KIEA'S (P.O.V)
Navigating through the passing days and months without his presence is a constant struggle. It pains me to realize that I had grown accustomed to his frequent visits, but I can no longer hold onto that hope.
Miss Mother, the caring overseer of the orphanage, called out, "Kiea? What's taking you so long?" She is the sole person here who still shows consideration for me. "Everyone else has already gone inside."
She glanced at me, her face filled with concern, and sat down beside me as I feigned a smile. "I was just wandering around, Mother."
"It's alright, we can take a moment," she said, offering me her company. After a minute of silence, I mustered the courage to speak up.
I called out to her, hoping to capture her attention. "Mother?" I said, my voice wavering."I'm listening," she replied with a gentle smile.
Emotions surged within me, but I tried to keep them in check. "I wonder what it would be like to live with a family, to talk to friends at school," I queried, my voice breaking. "Could I ever experience such feelings?"
She reassured me, her words comforting. "Of course, you will. You can and you will undoubtedly experience those emotions. Just a little more time, and you will know what it feels like," she said, her smile reaching her eyes.
I have two more years before I age out of the orphanage, but by then, I will be considered an adult. Is there still a chance?
"You have a bright future ahead of you, Kiea. With your intelligence and talent, you will excel in whatever path you choose. Please remember, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to reach out," she said with sincerity.
I felt a pang of guilt as I confessed, "You are such a kind person, and I don't think I can ever repay the kindness you have shown me. It makes me feel like I need to somehow make it up to you." That's how deeply I appreciate her care.
"Never feel that way, honey," she reassured me, her warmth radiating.
I smiled, but beneath the surface, my sadness was evident. A similar expression crossed her face as well. "You truly are kind. I wish my own mother had been like you."
You'll be an incredible mother one day, don't you think? That's what I hope for," she remarked, her excitement shining through.
I abruptly halted her, the weight of my reality crashing down. "I'm afraid that won't happen," I confessed. I didn't want anything to occur that would lead her to expect me to start a family and have children of my own.
"Why not? I mean, you can provide your child with the things you never had the chance to experience as a child," she suggested, trying to ease my worries.
I began to explain, "It's just that... look at me. I don't have a family to start with, I lack the foundation that would prepare me to create a family of my own. I don't know where to begin or what it takes, so I will just end up-" To my surprise, she interrupted me with words that reverberated through every fiber of my being.
I was taken aback by her question, not because she got it right—she didn't—but because she suddenly sounded remarkably like a mother. "Be like that forever? Until you die?" she said, her tone resembling that of a concerned parent. "Don't you think you're being too hard on yourself? Being so negative won't lead you to becoming a successful single woman, if that's what you desire." In this moment, she seemed to embody the image of a mother lecturing her daughter. I couldn't help but feel like I was speaking to my own mother.
She gripped my right hand firmly, looking at me intently, and stated, "Look, Kiea. Life is undeniably challenging; everyone has experienced and will experience the pain you're feeling right now. It all comes down to your ability to be strong enough to carry that burden and forge ahead for your future."
I mustered the best fake smile I could manage and asked, with a hint of skepticism, "Aren't I too young for all of this?" Only her.
She continued, her words filled with wisdom, "You see? That's precisely the point. Pain doesn't discriminate based on age. Whether you're young or old, a teenager or an adult, everyone is susceptible to pain. The key is learning how to face it head-on and fight through it." It felt as if this woman in front of me truly was my mother, offering guidance and support.
Unexpectedly, I found myself asking her, "Why don't you have a child?" She tilted her head slightly, and I quickly added, "Oh, it's alright if you don't want to answer my question." I flashed an uncomfortable grin, and she blinked briefly before returning my smile.
She averted her gaze, looking off to the side, and replied, "Well, I did have one." Her statement caught me off guard. "I once had a daughter."
Curiosity compelled me to inquire further, "Where is she now?"
She seemed to ponder for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "How can I explain it?" She must have been longing to be reunited with her child, and I could sense the sorrow in her voice as she replied, "She's near, yet she feels so far out of my reach."
Suddenly, a realization struck me. "It's like she's here, but at the same time, so far away," I murmured, as memories of Wil came flooding back. I sighed, reminiscing about the brief moments we shared in the past. My voice softened as I empathized with my own emotions, "To have that kind of feeling and know that it's fleeting is such a painful thing. All we can do is wish them the best, cherish every moment we have with them, because deep down, we know it will inevitably come to an end, and we'll be forced to return to reality. The truth is, you and they just don't belong in the same world."
Once again, I felt a sense of unease as she blurted out, "You love him." She always manages to startle me. It wasn't a question or a statement, but the tone of her voice made it sound like both.
"Yes, I've said it, and I know it to be true," I replied. "Yes, I love him. I can't stop thinking about him. I find myself reliving memories with him as if they were a movie playing right before my eyes. I wonder if we'll ever be reunited, if we'll be given a chance or not."
Her words hit me like a tidal wave, and I collapsed onto the ground, burying my face. I could hear her exhale heavily, and I continued to gaze at the ground, consumed by self-doubt.
In a barely audible whisper, I admitted, "I don't know."
And then, as if sensing my despair, she spoke words that ignited a spark within me. "Kiea, you're still young. You have so much of the world to explore, so many new friends to meet, so many opportunities to encounter. You'll learn that life isn't as bleak as it may seem." Her words provided me with the motivation I desperately needed.
Her words pierced through me as she stared into my eyes. "Do you know that I detest seeing that smile of yours? You can try as hard as you want to show someone your smile, but it won't work on me," she stated firmly. She continued, her voice filled with conviction, "Remember, Kiea, you possess the courage to do anything. You just need a little push, and you'll be free to soar. The courage you're seeking lies beneath your heart, hidden beneath the weight of your painful past. It's what's holding you back from becoming the best version of yourself." A tear trickled down her cheek, and without thinking, I reached out to gently wipe it away.
In that moment, she conveyed everything I had longed to hear from my unknown mother. "Leaving your comfort zone is all it takes to unlock the door to a bright future. You cannot, and will not, grow if you remain confined within your comfort zone. Kiea, you must let go of the past because a new life is waiting for you," she urged passionately.
I wrestled with the desire to smile once more as I questioned, "But how will I ever find the courage to do that?" Softly, I asked, "Why are you crying?"
She shook her head, a mix of sadness and tenderness in her eyes, and replied that I didn't need to know.
With a genuine smile, she reassured me, "You may have had a challenging upbringing, but I assure you, Kiea, your future holds immense promise. You just need to believe in yourself, believe that you can and will overcome any obstacles that come your way." I looked at her, feeling a deep sense of admiration. She then placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and pulled me into a tight embrace. "Be strong, that's all I can say to you. You've grown into a remarkable young woman. Be happy, alright, honey?" Her words resonated with such emotion, and as we held each other for a few moments, she turned away without giving me another glance.
In that fleeting encounter, I found solace, guidance, and a renewed sense of purpose. The conversation with this woman, who had taken on the role of a motherly figure, had awakened something within me—a determination to face my fears, embrace change, and embark on a journey of self-discovery. As I watched her walk away, I knew that our paths had crossed for a reason, and I was filled with hope for the future that lay ahead.
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