Chapter 2: The Question My Mother Refused To Ignore
“Simone…”
My mother said my name like it was a question.
Not a greeting.
Not a surprise.
A question.
The kind of question only a mother could ask without saying anything else.
I stood frozen on the front porch, one hand still gripping the strap of my purse, my body suddenly forgetting how to move. Behind me, I could feel Andre watching.
Waiting.
Waiting to see if I would protect him.
Waiting to see if I would keep the secret he had forced me to carry.
My mother, Elena Carter, had always been able to read me. When I was eight years old, she knew I had lied about breaking a lamp because I wouldn’t look her in the eye. When I was sixteen, she knew my first boyfriend had broken my heart before I ever admitted I was crying over him.
And now, at thirty-two years old, standing in front of her with a bruised eye covered by layers of makeup, I knew I couldn’t hide forever.
“Mom,” I said quickly, forcing a smile.
“Hi.””
Her eyes didn’t leave my face.
“Come inside.””
The way she said it made my stomach twist.
No anger.
No panic.
Just certainty.
She knew something was wrong.
Andre stepped forward with his usual charming smile.
“Hey, Elena. Sorry we’re late. Traffic was terrible.””
My mother looked at him.
The smile she gave him was polite.
But it wasn’t warm.
Not anymore.
“I’m sure it was.””
Andre laughed softly, as if she had made a joke.
My father appeared behind her, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.
“Finally,” he said.
“I was starting to think you two forgot where we lived.””
Normally, I would have laughed.
Normally, I would have hugged him.
But tonight, I couldn’t make my body pretend anymore.
My father walked toward us and opened his arms.
“Come here, sweetheart.””
I stepped into his embrace.
And the second his arms wrapped around me, I almost broke.
Because my father had always been the person who made me feel safe.
And I was standing there, hiding the fact that I no longer felt safe at home.
“You okay?”” he whispered.
Two words.
That was all it took.
My eyes filled with tears.
But before they could fall, I pulled away.
“Yeah,” I said too quickly.
“I’m just tired.””
My mother noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She touched my shoulder gently.
“Bathroom.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“Bathroom,” she repeated.
“Now.””
My heart started pounding.
“Mom, I’m fine.””
“No, you’re not.””
Her voice was quiet.
But firm.
Andre shifted beside me.
“Elena, really, it’s nothing.””
My mother looked at him.
And for the first time in years, I saw something in her expression I had never seen before.
Suspicion.
“I didn’t ask you.””
The air changed.
Andre’s smile disappeared for half a second.
Then it returned.
A little tighter.
A little colder.
“Of course.””
My mother took my hand and led me down the hallway.
I glanced back once.
Andre was standing in the entryway.
Watching me.
His eyes weren’t angry.
That almost made it worse.
He looked confident.
Like he knew exactly what I would do.
Like he knew I would stay quiet.
The bathroom door closed behind us.
And the second we were alone, my mother turned toward me.
“What happened?””
I looked down.
“Nothing.””
She didn’t respond.
She just waited.
That was always her trick.
She never rushed me.
She just waited until the silence became unbearable.
I stared at the white tile floor.
“I bumped into something.””
My mother’s face changed.
Not because she believed me.
Because she knew I was lying.
“What did you bump into?””
I swallowed.
“A cabinet.””
“A cabinet.””
“Yes.””
She stepped closer.
“Simone.””
I hated the disappointment in her voice more than anger.
Because she wasn’t disappointed in me.
She was hurt that I thought I had to lie to her.
“Look at me.””
I didn’t.
“Simone, look at me.””
Slowly, I lifted my head.
My mother reached toward my face but stopped before touching the bruise.
Her hand froze in the air.
That small movement broke something inside me.
Because she was afraid to hurt me.
And my own husband wasn’t.
“Did Andre do this?””
The question came out softly.
But it hit me like a scream.
“No.””
The answer came too fast.
My mother’s eyes narrowed.
“You didn’t even think before answering.””
“I said no.””
“Because it’s true?””
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
And that silence answered for me.
My mother stepped back.
“Oh my God.””
I immediately shook my head.
“Mom, please.””
“No.””
Her voice cracked.
“No, don’t do that. Don’t ask me to stay calm when my daughter is standing in front of me scared to tell me the truth.””
“I’m not scared.””
“Then why are you protecting him?””
I looked away.
Because I didn’t have an answer.
Not one that made sense.
How could I explain that I was protecting the same person who hurt me?
How could I explain that I was still holding onto the man I married, even though he had disappeared somewhere along the way?
“He’s not always like this,” I whispered.
My mother closed her eyes.
That sentence hurt her.
I knew it did.
Because every mother knows what those words mean.
“He apologized before,” I continued.
“For what?””
I stayed silent.
“Simone.””
I wiped my cheek.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen.””
My mother stared at me.
“That is not an answer.””
“He was angry.””
“Everyone gets angry.””
“I know.””
“No, you don’t.””
Her voice became sharper.
“Because if you knew, you wouldn’t be standing here making excuses for a man who hurt you.””
I flinched.
Not because she was wrong.
Because she was right.
A knock came from the other side of the door.
“Everything okay?””
Andre.
My entire body reacted before my mind did.
I straightened.
I wiped my face.
I became the version of myself everyone knew.
The wife.
The smiling woman.
The woman who said everything was fine.
My mother noticed.
And I saw the pain in her eyes.
Not just because of the bruise.
Because she realized how practiced I was at hiding.
“Mom,” I whispered.
She lowered her voice.
“You are not leaving this house tonight without talking to me.””
My heart raced.
“Please don’t make a scene.””
Her expression changed.
“A scene?””
“I just mean—”
“No, Simone.””
She opened the door.
“You need to stop worrying about making things uncomfortable for everyone else.””
Andre stood outside.
The second he saw my mother’s face, he knew.
Something had changed.
Dinner started ten minutes later.
Nobody said anything.
That was the worst part.
My father talked about work.
My mother asked about my job.
Andre told stories and laughed at the right moments.
Anyone watching from the outside would have thought we were normal.
But underneath the table, my mother kept watching me.
And every time I looked at her, I saw the same question.
How long has this been happening?
I barely touched my food.
Andre noticed.
“Simone, you’re barely eating.””
“I’m not hungry.””
“You should eat.””
The way he said it sounded caring.
But I knew better.
It wasn’t concern.
It was control.
My father looked between us.
“You two doing okay?””
The question froze the room.
Andre answered immediately.
“Of course.””
I looked at him.
He didn’t even hesitate.
My mother placed her fork down.
“Are you sure?””
Andre smiled.
“Why wouldn’t we be?””
My mother held his gaze.
And for the first time, I realized something.
She wasn’t afraid of him.
She wasn’t impressed by him.
She wasn’t fooled by him.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly.
“I was hoping Simone would tell me.””
My chest tightened.
Andre looked at me.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
The warning.
The message.
Don’t.
I lowered my eyes.
And hated myself for it.
After dinner, while my father washed dishes, my mother pulled me aside near the hallway.
She slipped something into my hand.
Her car keys.
I looked down.
“What are these?””
“Keep them.””
“Mom—”
“Keep them.””
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“If you need to leave, you leave.””
I stared at her.
The reality of those words finally hit me.
My mother wasn’t asking anymore.
She knew.
She knew I was in danger.
“I’m not ready,” I whispered.
Her eyes softened.
“Ready for what?””
I looked toward the living room where Andre stood talking to my father.
The man everyone loved.
The man everyone trusted.
The man nobody suspected.
“To admit that my marriage isn’t what I thought it was.””
My mother squeezed my hand.
“Simone, sometimes the hardest truth is the one that saves you.””
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
I looked down.
Unknown number.
One message.
My blood ran cold.
Because it wasn’t from a stranger.
It was from someone who had been watching me.
The message contained only four words:
*I know what he did.*
And underneath it was a photo.
A photo of Andre.
Standing outside our house.
Taken earlier that night.
But the person who sent it wasn’t the part that scared me.
It was the timestamp.
The photo had been taken three hours before I even arrived at my parents’ house.
May you like
And below the picture, another message appeared.
*You need to know the truth about your husband.*
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