she was gone.
What Truly Matters
I turned back to my mother.
Picked her up in my arms.
Carried her inside the house that was always meant to be hers.
I gave her a warm bath.
Cooked her a proper meal with my own hands.
And that night—
I made a promise.
She would never cry again.
And I would never again trust appearances over character.
Because beauty can lie.
Status can deceive.