Chapter 13
Celina asked to see Ivy and Owen.
I said the choice belonged to them.
She stared at me.
“They’re three.”
“Yes.”
“They cannot make decisions.”
“They can decide who they feel safe hugging.”
Her face hardened.
“You’re turning my children against me.”
There it was.
Possession again.
My children.
Not our.
I brought the twins into the garden room.
Teresa stayed nearby.
Celina sat across from them.
No guards between.
Two at the door.
Ivy hid behind my leg immediately.
Owen held Teresa’s hand.
Celina looked wounded.
“You don’t want Mommy?”
Ivy said nothing.
Celina reached.
I stopped her hand without violence.
“Ask.”
She stared at me.
Then at Ivy.
“Can I hug you?”
Ivy shook her head.
Celina’s face cracked.
“No?”
Another shake.
Owen whispered:
“Are you mad?”
Celina closed her eyes.
When she opened them, tears had arrived.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
Good.
Maybe one truthful moment.
Then Celina looked at Teresa.
“You did this.”
Ivy suddenly spoke.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Three years old.
Tiny voice.
“Mommy did.”
Silence.
Celina stared at her daughter.
Ivy continued.
“You made Grandma cry.”
Owen nodded.
“And no food.”
Celina started sobbing.
For the first time, she had no political language available.
No elder council.
No respect.
No household discipline.
Just two children telling her what they remembered.
She whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Ivy looked at me.
I did not nod.
Did not tell her to forgive.
She looked back at Celina.
“I want Grandma.”
Teresa opened her arms.
Ivy went.
Conversation finished.
Celina looked at me.
“You’re just going to let her walk away?”
“Yes.”
May you like
That was the lesson Celina had never learned.
Love does not become real because the stronger person blocks the door.
