Even if the evidence suggests it was an accident, what about the shift in her subjective intentions? What about the physical and emotional damage this has caused me? Whether or not I planned to have children, the scars—both seen and unseen—are real. From the moment I was placed on that operating table and Ashley became the surgeon, everything changed. There was no clarity from then on.
My mother, ever quick to switch sides, turned to Finley, her voice dripping with concern. "Finley, don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. Your relationship—years of love—won’t fall apart over something so trivial."
Finley didn’t even acknowledge her. He simply turned and walked away, not bothering to respond, leaving me standing there with my face still stinging from the slap.
I touched my cheek, feeling a sharp pang that wasn’t just physical. In that moment, I questioned everything—whose mother was she, really? How could she so easily take his side? I stared at her, wondering how someone could be so heartless.
And then, predictably, she turned on me. "Look at what you’ve done," she complained, her voice full of blame, as if I was the one ruining everything.