Beside her, wrapped in a blanket, lay Katja, cuddling the scruffy stuffed rabbit at her side. Her tiny fingers mechanically pressed one ear, tense, as if some kind of protection from the whole world lay hidden there.
Only one thing crossed her mind:
“How come I hadn’t seen this before?”
She remembered how her daughter Marina had changed in recent years. She had become a little cold. Distant. Always irritable, always tired. She complained constantly: about work, about being a difficult child, about being bored.
Valentina thought those were words. A tired woman. A mother under tension.
But now the result of that motherhood lay before her eyes.
A bruise. Silence. Fear in the children’s eyes.
“Katenka, darling… tell me the truth,” Valentina said softly, though her voice trembled. Does your mother usually punish you like this?
Katja said nothing. Then he nodded, barely perceptibly.
Sometimes… if I don’t listen to her. If I forget something or say something… once, because I spilled milk. Then, because I drank a couple. And something else…
“What else, darling?”
Katja hugged her rabbit tightly.
She locks me in the bathroom. Or takes me to the balcony. For a while… she says that if I don’t listen to her, I need to calm down.
Valentina covered her mouth with her hand. Tears filled her eyes. She felt a tightness in her chest.
“That’s not my Marina. That’s not the girl I raised… What made her like this?”
When Katya fell asleep listening to the fairy tale, Valentina got up, went to the kitchen, poured some water (her hand was shaking), and sat down at the table.
The solution came immediately. Without a doubt.
They won’t bring the child back. Not even tomorrow. Maybe never.
Two hours later, Valentina was already sitting in the car. Next to her was her neighbor Todor, a retired researcher.
“Well… Are you sure you want to involve social services? It’s no small matter.”
“I can’t keep quiet anymore, Tosho. I can’t. My daughter is a granddaughter. She’s not a flower in a pot that can be moved and pruned as soon as she was born. If she’s suffering, something is wrong. And I won’t stand idly by.”
The next morning, child protection officers showed up at the Marina gate. A woman in a sailor suit showed up and sat down.
We received a signal about possible physical and psychological abuse of a child.
Marina paled for a moment.
“My mom, right? Did she tell you? This woman is crazy! What nonsense she’s talking! I’m a wonderful mother! The child has everything: clothes, a room, toys!”
“And the bruises? Are they part of the whole story?”
“I was just washing her! Just once! That’s not violence, it’s parenting! I’m her mother! I have the right! She’s always been against me! She’s been sabotaging me my whole life!”
“Please calm down,” another employee chimed in. “We’re not concluding. We’re just checking. But for now, the girl is staying with her grandmother. It’s a temporary measure.”
Marina set the table. For the first time, she realized she might lose the child.
Two weeks passed. Katya stayed with Valentin. And every day she became more playful, calmer, and happier. He fell asleep peacefully. I drew. He played. He spoke confidently. He sang again.
One night, while eating cake, she looked at her grandmother and asked:
“Grandma… Can I stay with you forever?”
Valentina smiled, her eyes filling with tears.
As long as I live, Catenza, you’ll always have a home here. And love.
A month later, Marina appeared at the door.
She looked different. No makeup. No hair. Her eyes were blue, but cloudy. No arrogance. Just silence.
Mom… I went to a psychologist. And to the administration. I read. I told you. I thought… and I understood. Really… she was bad. I was… a monster. But I want to fix it. I want my daughter back. But also myself.
Valentina was silent for a long time. Then she said:
You can try, Marina. But not as a “mother” anymore. As a human being. First, recover. And then, maybe, Katja.
Marina started to cry. There was no spectacle. There was no theatricality.
Really.
Katja looked out of the room. He watched her for a long time. Then he came closer. He was silent.
And he said quietly:
Only if you don’t scare me anymore… then you can. But you have to be a grandmother.
And he took her hand.
It was a new beginning.
No shouting. No fear.
Only love.
And the possibility of healing.
Three women. Three generations. And a suggestion that has endured in their house ever since:
Love doesn’t win. Love isn’t scary. Love embraces.
Part 2: “Where Second Chances Bloom”
Winter was slowly slipping out of the village. The snow was beginning to melt, and the first green shoots were appearing at the edges of Valentina’s garden. Inside the house, the atmosphere was different from before: more laughter, more songs. Katja now walked confidently, spoke without whispers, and slept without hugging her rabbit like a shield.
But in the kitchen, over a cup of tea that was getting cold, Marina returned each day.
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