"So, is something bothering you?"
She was always like this—direct, yet laced with mockery, her words cutting as if they carried an unspoken dagger.
"Kuku, you're not here to beg me, are you? No, the planet would have to turn upside down before that ever happens."
The same unwavering smile adorned her lips, the one that spoke volumes of her disdain and amusement at the world around her.
To her, everyone—me included—was nothing more than a fleeting entertainment, mere pieces on her chessboard to manipulate or discard.
"Why so quiet? Don't tell me you're feeling regretful, are you?"
Her words were a venomous tease, her tone biting and cold.
Even though she was my mother by flesh and blood, any semblance of a maternal bond between us had been severed long ago, if it ever existed at all.
