The Old Wounds That Never Heals

‘I never like you.’ Those four words were like a dull knife that kept on stabbing Lina in the chest as she kept on repeating those words in her head. She knew that her mother didn’t like her growing up, however, it was the first time that her mother told her verbally that she never liked her—and despite knowing the fact all her life, hearing them from her mother’s mouth still hurt.

She slowly lowered herself to the ground. Sitting next to her mother but making sure to put enough distance between them.

“I was younger than you when I met your father,” she said, her eyes glued in the distance, past behind the tall trees as if she was seeing the story she was telling her daughter behind those trees. “I was doing what other women my age were doing—finding a suitable husband.” A smile ghosted her lips as if she was remembering something fun and exciting. “I met your father at one of the parties my friend&rsquo