I looked at Grandma, whose face was tight with anger and grief.
“But why? Did I do something wrong?”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” my mother snapped.
“I have a real family now. You’re just… in the way.”
Grandma’s hand slammed the table.
“Enough, Pamela! She’s a child, for God’s sake. Your child.”
My mother shrugged.
“A mistake I’ve paid for long enough. Either you take her, or I’ll find someone who will.”
I stood there, tears streaming down my face, invisible to the woman who gave birth to me.
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“Pack your things, sweetheart,” Grandma said gently, wrapping her arms around me. “We’ll make this work, I promise.”
Grandma’s house became my sanctuary.
A place where I was wanted and where someone’s eyes lit up when I walked into the room. She hung my artwork on the fridge, helped with my homework, and tucked me in every night.
Still, the wound of my mother’s rejection festered.
“Why doesn’t she want me?” I asked one night as Grandma brushed my hair before bed.
Her hands paused. “Oh, Becca.
Some people aren’t capable of the love they should give. It’s not your fault, honey. Never think it’s your fault.”
“But she loves Jason.”
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