A Daughter’s Tears

"That’s good, you need to do this properly and once you say the magic spell, I want you two to be brave little knights and protect mom. Can you do that for your big sis?"

"Yes!" The two little girls smiled as they answered.

"As expected of my adorable little sisters!" Clara hugged the two girls tightly and then she took the sword on her waist and handed it to Kary.

The moment the sword left her hand, Clara’s expression softened.

The weapon was old.

Far older than Kary realized.

Scratches covered the worn scabbard.

The leather grip had faded from years of use.

It was not some legendary weapon.

It wasn’t enchanted.

It wasn’t famous.

Yet to Clara, it was more valuable than any treasure in the world.

"Kary, this is father’s sword which he used to protect this family, it then became my sword which I used to protect this family and rose through the ranks as an adventurer. Now it’s your sword, it’s your turn to be the protector of this family."

Kary froze.

Her green eyes widened.

The sword felt surprisingly heavy in her hands.

Not because of its weight.

But because of what it represented.

Their father.

The family.

Responsibility.

Trust.

For a moment she simply stared at it.

Then she carefully hugged the scabbard against her chest.

A strange warmth spread through her heart.

She couldn’t fully understand the feeling.

Part pride.

Part excitement.

Part fear.

Yet all of it mixed together.

"I’ll do my best big sis! I’ll protect everyone!"

Her voice was filled with determination.

Clara smiled.

A genuine smile.

The kind she rarely showed anyone.

Nira immediately puffed her cheeks.

"What about me?"

"You?"

Clara laughed softly.

"Your job is harder."

Nira blinked.

"Really?"

"Of course."

Clara poked her forehead.

"You have to keep Kary from doing anything stupid."

Kary immediately protested.

"Hey!"

The room erupted into laughter.

For a brief while, the approaching war seemed far away.

For a brief while, they were simply sisters enjoying a peaceful evening.

...

The sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.

Warm orange light painted the windows.

Dinner was simple.

Bread.

Soup.

A little meat.

Nothing extravagant.

Yet the three sisters sat together and ate as if it were a royal feast.

Kary enthusiastically talked about becoming a knight.

Nira constantly interrupted.

Clara listened quietly.

Occasionally smiling.

Occasionally teasing them.

Deep inside, she wished time would stop.

Just for one night.

Just for one meal.

Just for one moment longer.

Because she didn’t know if she would ever experience this again.

Eventually the meal ended.

The house became quiet.

One by one, the lights were extinguished.

After making sure both girls were asleep, Clara gently closed their bedroom door.

She stood outside for several seconds.

Listening.

Their peaceful breathing drifted through the wooden door.

A small smile appeared on her face.

Then slowly faded.

Reality returned.

Turning around, she climbed the stairs.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

Eventually she reached the second floor.

The hallway was dark.

Silent.

Lonely.

At the end stood a familiar room.

Her mother’s room.

Clara pushed the door open.

The hinges creaked softly.

Inside, moonlight spilled through the curtains.

The room looked exactly the same as it had yesterday.

And the day before.

And the day before that.

Nothing ever changed here.

Nothing moved.

Nothing improved.

Nothing healed.

Upon entering the room, there in the bed, unmoving and unchanging, was her mother Gianna.

Clara quietly approached.

Her mother lay peacefully upon the bed.

If someone didn’t know better, they might think she was simply sleeping.

But Clara knew better.

She had known for years.

Carefully, she began her routine.

She cleaned her mother’s face.

Brushed her hair.

Changed her clothes.

Fed her.

Adjusted the blankets.

Every action had become instinctive.

She could perform them with her eyes closed.

Years of repetition had turned them into habit.

A habit born from duty.

And love.

When everything was finished, Clara pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down.

Silence filled the room.

Only the distant sounds of Fantom City could be heard outside.

The two of them didn’t speak a word.

One couldn’t.

The other didn’t know where to begin.

Several minutes passed.

Then Clara finally broke the silence.

"Mom..."

The word left her lips almost as a whisper.

For a moment, she simply sat there staring at the woman lying on the bed.

The woman who had once seemed invincible.

The woman who used to smile whenever Clara scraped her knee as a child.

The woman who used to tell her that everything would be alright.

Now all that remained was silence.

Clara lowered her head.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat.

"You know... this might be the last time we ever talk."

Her fingers tightened around the blanket.

"I’ve been wanting to say these things for years."

The room remained quiet.

Moonlight spilled across the floor.

The old clock on the wall ticked softly.

Each sound only made the silence between them feel heavier.

"I hate you, Mom."

The words came out rougher than she intended.

For a moment, Clara closed her eyes.

"I really do."

Her voice trembled.

"When Father died... when everything started falling apart... when Kary and Nira needed someone..."

She swallowed hard.

"You weren’t there."

The pain she had buried for years slowly surfaced.

Not explosive.

Not violent.

Just old.

Exhausted.

Like a wound that never properly healed.

"I hated watching you lie here while everything around us crumbled."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I hated having to become the strong one."

Another tear followed.

"I hated having to act like I knew what I was doing when I was just a scared little girl pretending to be an adult."

Her shoulders shook.

"And do you know the worst part?"

Clara laughed softly.

A broken laugh.

The kind people make when they are too tired to cry.

"I was jealous of you."

The confession felt ugly.

But it was the truth.

She looked at her mother’s sleeping face.

"You escaped all of troubles."