Margarette had discovered the truth but chose not to reveal it. She knew that being the Gregory family’s daughter carried power and privilege, something she wanted for her real daughter. But she couldn’t completely abandon me either. So, she worked several jobs to ensure that both Holley and I received the same education.
Gregory parents were rarely home, too busy to notice much. I remember seeing Margarette stay up late, caring for the sickly Holley more than once.
As a child, I never understood why I, her real daughter, was treated so harshly, while she smiled warmly at Holley. I resented her strictness, but now, I understood.
Running my fingers over her writing, I realized that while I had longed for a mother’s love, Margarette had always been there, watching me from a distance, documenting my every step.
“My Marla called me ‘Mom’ for the first time today! I’m so happy…”
“Marla fell down today, but I couldn’t help her. She needs to learn to stand on her own, to be strong.”
“Marla said she hates me today. I…”
A dull ache spread through my chest.
But this time, it wasn’t from anger or betrayal. It was from a deep, quiet sadness.
The hatred I had carried for so long dissolved, replaced by a grief that words couldn’t express. It was the kind of sorrow that only comes when you realize how much you’ve lost, and how much you never truly understood.
