When I opened the wardrobe, I found a neat stack of tiny baby clothes tucked in the corner. Each shirt had been made with my own hands.
My throat tightened. I had prayed in temples until my voice was hoarse for this child's safe delivery—I had even promised to offer ten years of my life if only the baby could be born safely.
The abbot had seen my sincerity and told me to sew one hundred garments and place them before the shrine for consecration. I had done it all.
"Baby, I'm sorry," I whispered into the fabric, burying my face and sobbing softly. "Mommy... couldn't protect you."
Without warning, Patricia stood in my doorway, smiling sweetly as she picked up one of the tiny shirts. "Sister, these little clothes are beautiful—can I have this one?"
"Put it down." My voice was icier than I intended.
Her smile faltered, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes. "Sorry, sis, I was just curious."
She grabbed my arm suddenly and gripped it hard. "Do you hate me so much? Don't make me leave... please don't hurt my baby."
"Let go!" I flung her hand off and in the struggle, she stumbled and fell to the floor.