But still, he did not speak. The silence on the other end of the line was suffocating, stretching on in a way that made my heart race with unease.
"Please..." I couldn't hold back anymore, my voice trembling with desperation as I whispered the words.
In such a dire situation, what else could a mother, filled with hopelessness, possibly do or say?
"My daughter..." I choked on the words, my voice breaking, "My daughter was born with aphasia."
Tears streamed down uncontrollably as I sobbed, "Do you know? Today was the first time in my life that I heard her call me 'Mom.' Just that one word... it became the last sound she ever uttered."
"I had dreamed of hearing her voice more, teaching her to sing, talking to her, sharing so many things with her."
The more I spoke, the deeper the sorrow gripped me, and my sobs grew louder, "I wish... I could hear her call me 'Mom' just once more, but now... I can never hear it again..."
He remained silent, the quiet stretching endlessly from the receiver.
In my despair, I wept, feeling as if my heart had plummeted into an abyss, sinking deeper and deeper with every passing moment.
That cruel woman—she took my daughter's life, and then callously kicked her tiny body to the side of the road, walking away as though nothing had happened, as if none of it mattered at all.
Why? How could she do this? What right did she have to be so heartless?
My heart burned with anger and grief, yet I felt utterly powerless.