🦢 ﹕ ʚɞ vivienne felt a begrudging sort of respect for amara in that moment. the girl did not wilt beneath pressure the way so many others did. she stood there and spoke plainly, without trembling, without apology, and vivienne hated how much it reminded her of the kind of woman she herself might have become had life allowed softness to survive inside her. she inhaled slowly, controlled, allowing amara to finish every last word before responding. though the stillness in her was deceptive. surrender had never existed in vivienne langford’s nature. not as a daughter. not as a wife. certainly not as a mother.
her shoulders squared carefully, lips pulling into a line so fine it nearly disappeared. “hating you would require far too much effort, miss rhodes,” vivienne replied without missing a beat. “and contrary to what you may think, i do not spend my days consumed by thoughts of you.” her gaze flicked toward the younger woman then, sharp enough to split skin. “i find you to be a nuisance. and that,” she added coolly, “is me being generous.”
but the cruelty faltered at the edges. not enough to soften it, only enough to expose the wound beneath it. “that boy—” vivienne gestured toward the photograph she had turned face down, fingers trembling faintly before she curled them tightly against her palm. “is my son. my flesh and blood.” her hand pressed suddenly against her chest as though she needed to physically anchor herself to the statement. “do you understand what that means?”
her voice lowered then, something raw creeping into it despite herself. “i carried him. i raised him. i sat awake through fevers and broken bones and every nightmare he dragged into my bed when he was little.” she laughed once beneath her breath, humorless and thin. “he used to follow me through this house like a shadow. even as a grown man, he still walks into the kitchen looking for me first.”
the room seemed to close tighter around her with every word. “conrad died,” vivienne said suddenly, the sentence abrupt enough to sting. “camille left for college and never truly came back. my marriage…” her jaw tightened. “my marriage became something polite people stop asking questions about.” a pause, brittle. “everything in my life learned how to leave.”
her eyes lifted again, glassy now though no tears fell. “except beau.” the confession escaped quieter than the rest, almost ashamed of its own honesty. “he stayed.” her lips parted slightly before pressing together again. “through every humiliating dinner, every funeral, every lonely godforsaken year in this mausoleum of a house—he stayed with me.” her composure cracked then, just enough for the desperation beneath it to finally breathe. “and now you stand here asking me to smile while the last person who has ever loved me without condition slowly begins building a life that no longer has room for me in it.”
silence swallowed the room whole. when vivienne spoke again, her voice had gone frighteningly calm. “so no,” she murmured, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her sleeve with shaking fingers. “i do not hate you.” her eyes settled on amara one final time, tired and vicious all at once. “i simply think you are asking a mother to survive something she does not know how to survive.”