Chapter 283

The hollow ticking of the clock echoed through the dimly lit apartment, each passing second intensifying the ache gnawing at my insides. I paced the room, unable to focus on a single thought.

I couldn’t rest knowing Timothy was locked away somewhere, unable to defend his innocence against a narrative already going against him. I needed answers, reassurance that he was alright. But the deafening silence offered no solace.

With trembling fingers, I dialed my mother’s number, and there was a rush of relief when she answered. “Mom, hi.”

The line crackled before her voice pierced through, unusually cold and distant. “Evie, I was just about to call you. I’m outside waiting for you.”

“Outside? Why?” I asked, my heart pounding against the mounting dread. “What's going on? Is this about Timothy?”

“Just come downstairs,” she replied before abruptly ending the call.

My heart raced as I rushed out of the apartment, and any fear I might have felt about her owning a gun only intensified. It seemed out of character for her to own one. Then again, I barely knew her.

As I entered the lobby, my eyes scanned the familiar faces, searching for Mia's presence amidst the scattered residents. And then, I saw her—Mia, her expression distant, standing in a corner, her eyes fixed on something distant, almost dismissive.

“Mom!” I called out, my voice tinged with urgency. “Is this about what’s going on with Timothy? Have you heard anything?”

Mia turned to face me, her gaze cold and unyielding. “I came here for a specific reason, Evie.”

My heart sank, a pang of disappointment mingling with the worry. “But Timothy—”

“He’s not my concern right now,” she interjected sharply, her tone cutting through my plea. “We need to talk about your interview with Bette Frieman.”

Confusion knitted my brows. “What about it?”

Mia’s eyes bore into mine, her demeanor stern. “You’ve made a mess, Evie. Talking about sensitive matters without considering the repercussions. Do you have any idea what you’ve stirred up?”

“I was just speaking the truth,” I countered, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “There’s a lot of people getting away with crime these days just because of their status.”

“Truth?” Mia scoffed, looking me up and down as her lip curled. “Sometimes, truth doesn’t have to be splashed across the headlines, especially when it’s to bash the people you supposedly care for.”

“But it’s important,” I protested. “Someone has to speak out against injustice.”

“Not at the cost of everything we’ve built,” Mia retorted sharply. “You need to learn when to tread carefully. You’re jeopardizing your career and the relationships that matter.”

I blinked in astonishment. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” I murmured, a pang of guilt tugging at my conscience.

“As if that means anything now,” Mia said through gritted teeth. “You need to think before you act.”

"Mom, please try to understand. It wasn't my intention to hurt you," I pleaded, my voice shaking. I could already feel her drifting away, taking any shred of warmth that she’d extended to me with her.

Mia's voice cracked as she continued. "Understand? How could I understand, Evie? You had me sounding like a monster in that interview!”

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Mum. I was just trying to be honest about how I felt, about what I've been through," I tried to explain, tears welling in my eyes.

"And in doing so, you've tarnished my reputation, humiliated me in front of everyone," Mia snapped back.

"But it's not fair! You were never there for me. I had to navigate through my past alone, and it affected who I became. You were part of that," I protested, the frustration in my voice palpable.

Mia's voice turned icy. "Stop acting like a victim, Evie. You always blame your past, as if I never loved you," she retorted, her words piercing through my heart like a knife.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, my emotions a turbulent storm within me. "I'm not blaming you for everything, but you have to understand that your absence, your neglect—it shaped me. It hurt me," I sobbed.

Mia's expression hardened. "Evie, you have to take responsibility for your own life. You can't keep blaming me for everything that's gone wrong," she chided.

"I'm not trying to blame you for everything. I just wish you had been there for me," I whispered.

Mia let out an exasperated sigh. "I did what I thought was best for you. I made sacrifices. But you only see what you want to see," she countered, and to my horror, she turned away.

I struggled to comprehend the sudden shift in our relationship. It seemed like she’d already grown resentful of me.

“Mom, wait!” I called out.

But she didn’t turn back. Instead, her steps quickened, retreating further away from me, from the words I longed to say, from the need to salvage what felt like a crumbling foundation.

“Please!” I pleaded, stepping toward her.

She halted for a brief moment, her silhouette a stark contrast against the distant exit. When she finally turned, her eyes were empty.

“Exposing your insecurities for the world to see, having no dignity,” her words were a cold blade cutting through my defenses. “Embarrassing your mother above all else.”

“I was just trying to—” I started feeling like that scared little girl I’d tried so hard to suppress. Beneath her scrutinizing gaze, it was as if I never grew up.

“You've never understood, have you?” Her voice trembled as she continued, determined to cut deeper. “You're so blinded by your own idealism that you fail to see the consequences of your actions. You've always been this way.”

Her words struck a nerve, an unsettling truth I had failed to recognize. “That's not true,” I retorted, though my voice wavered with uncertainty.

Mia stepped forward, her eyes ablaze with frustration. “I decided to be your mother recently, yes, but that doesn't mean I haven't tried to do what's best for you. You’re just too blind to see it.”

I tried to reach out to her, to bridge the growing gap, but before I could speak, she shoved me away.

“You're ungrateful!” she spat, her voice laced with an anger I’d never seen before. “I've never met someone more ungrateful.”

As she stormed away, I could barely tear my eyes away from her departing figure. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood there, feeling broken, shattered by the sudden rupture in a relationship I'd hoped to rebuild.

Limbs still trembling, I made my way back to the apartment, each step heavier than the last. The familiar walls felt suffocating, the silence within echoing the turmoil in my heart.

As I slumped onto the couch and hugged one of the pillows to my chest, Aria rushed in, her face etched with worry. “Evie! I’ve been trying to find you! What happened?”

I struggled to form coherent words, the ache in my chest stifling any attempt to speak. Fresh tears spilled from my eyes and I threw my head in my hands, failing to stifle my sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Aria's voice was gentle as she sat beside me, wrapping me in a warm embrace. “It's okay, you can tell me.”

“I think she's left me again,” I managed to choke out amidst the tears, my voice barely audible over the echoes of my mother’s words.

Aria held me tighter, offering a wordless comfort that felt both familiar and foreign. “You're not alone, Evie. You have me.”

But the wounds were raw, the scars too deep. The sense of abandonment lingered, and I feared I’d lose more people down the road. As Aria tried to console me, I couldn’t shake the haunting fear that my mother had once again vanished from my life, and that Timothy would too.