My Mother’s Perfect AI Lied And Left Me For Dead Chapter 17
When the sea breeze stirred the petals beside my photo, I would stand there with him.
He couldn’t see me, but sometimes he would pause and glance toward where I stood.
After he began to honestly accept his responsibility, I felt something like a locked door open inside me.
I left the shore and arrived in a quiet waiting room.
There was no clock, no departure board. At the far end stood only a door glowing with white light.
An old woman with silver hair sat beside it, holding a cup of clear water. She didn’t offer it to me.
“Child, your mother is waiting for you in a dream,” she said. “You may see her once before you leave.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to forgive her,” the woman’s voice was gentle. “But you can finish saying what you need to say. You don’t have to carry those words into your next life.”
I was silent for a long time. Finally, I closed my eyes.
I entered Mom’s prison dream.
She was kneeling on a cold floor, crying so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“Mo, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have trusted Ava. I should have trusted you.”
“I killed you.”
She pounded her fists against the ground until her knuckles split and blood smeared the concrete.
I stood in front of her.
Once, a single glance from her had made me afraid. Now she was curled on the floor like a child abandoned by everyone.
“Please forgive me.” She reached out as if to touch me, then drew back. “If I had another chance, I’d make you grilled cheese sandwiches. I’d buy you new shoes. If you said you were in pain, I’d take you straight to the hospital. Whatever you said, I’d listen.”
I listened quietly until she was done.
“I don’t hate you anymore,” I said.
Mom stopped crying. She raised her tear-streaked face, and hope flared in her eyes.
“Then… have you forgiven me?”
“No. I never will.”
I looked at her, making sure every word was clear.
“That life gave me enough pain. Next time, let’s never meet. And don’t ever be my mother again.”
Then I turned and walked toward the white light.
Behind me, Mom cried out my name.
I didn’t look back.