“Miya,” she said slowly, like she was explaining something simple to a stupid person, “you need to stop clinging. Gusion has moved on. He love Hanabi and Hanabi will be a better influence. She’s calmer. Healthier. She has time.”
Something dark twisted in my chest. “You’re saying she’ll replace me.”
“I’m saying,” my mother replied coldly, “that maybe Nana deserves someone who isn’t always pretending to be sick, crying, or causing scenes.”
My vision went white.
“Bring my daughter home,” I said, shaking. “If you don’t—”
“Enough!" she snapped. “Stop being selfish.”
The line went dead.
I stood there staring at my phone, my whole body trembling. I felt small. Powerless. Like I had no right to my own child.
My thumb moved on its own.
I opened Instagram. And my heart shattered all over again.
The first post was Hanabi’s.
A clean, glossy photo. Her hand intertwined with Gusion’s. The engagement ring shining right in the center.
"Fate brought us together. Love made us brave. Counting down the days until I become Mrs. Colombo."
Thousands of likes.
Hundreds of comments.
“Finally! You two make so much more sense.”
“She looks way more suitable than his wife, sorry not sorry!”