Worse than that, she fed the neighborhood lies. Said the triplets ran because Linda was unstable. Said she had been a terrible mother. Suggested she had used those children to fill the emptiness inside herself. The rumors spread fast and viciously. Vendors stopped speaking to Linda. Neighbors avoided her. People treated her like a cautionary tale, a broken woman rejected even by the children she had “collected.”
What Linda did not know was worse still.
Diane had spoken to the triplets before they left. Whispered doubts into their ears. Told them Linda was not really their mother, that she was using them, that they would be better off without her. Diane’s jealousy—of Linda’s love, endurance, and the bond she had built with the children—had curdled into sabotage.
Linda knew none of this. She only knew the children were gone and the whole world seemed to believe she deserved it.
After six months of that agony, she left. Packed what little she had, moved to another part of the city, and started over again with her food stand. She told no one her story. Kept her head down. Worked. Survived. Wondered every day whether the triplets were safe, alive, or thinking of her at all.
Years passed.