My mother came in with a plate of cookies, her eyes red and puffy. “Emily, try these. I made them just for you.”
Seeing her like that made my heart ache. “Mom, you need to rest. If nothing changes by the tenth day, I’ll do what you all want. I’ll write the confession and end my life in public. I won’t bring shame to our family.”
My mother broke down, sobbing. “Emily, I can’t bear to lose you, but what choice do I have? If you don’t confess, what will happen to your father and brother’s futures? What about the rest of our family? I’m truly at my wits’ end.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and gently touched her face, now so worn with worry. “Mom, have you ever thought about fighting back against all this?”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Fight back? How? Emily, the world is what it is. We can’t afford to dream too big.”
I lowered my gaze and let out a bitter laugh. “I get it, Mom.”
My mother loves me more than anything. She’d stand in the scorching sun just to bake me an apple pie, and she’d stay up all night by my bedside whenever I was sick.
But like most women of her time, she doesn’t fight back. She accepts her fate. They resent the world but believe that’s just how it is.