The afternoon sunlight fell gently through the living room windows, casting soft patterns on the floor. Melathi sat quietly in her favorite armchair, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the embroidered cushion. Today, the warmth of the sun seemed to stir memories she had long kept buried, memories she had never shared with anyone,not even Yugh. 💭
She remembered the truth, the one that had haunted her silently for decades. Yugh was not her biological son. She had never given birth to him. She had raised him, nurtured him, loved him as her own,but the truth belonged to someone else. Only Yugh's father knew, and it was a secret they had agreed to keep.
Yugh's biological mother had passed away when he was only four months old, leaving him too small, too fragile to understand anything. By the time he turned one, his father had remarried, and Melathi stepped into his life fully, taking on a role she had not been born for,but one she had embraced wholeheartedly. 😑
When Yusuf came into her life, a few years later, she carried him in her womb but made no distinction between her sons. Yugh and Yusuf were both hers in every way that mattered. She treated them equally, loved them equally, and guided them both as her children,never revealing the truth, never creating a difference between them.
Melathi often thought about the quiet burden she carried. Yugh believed Yusuf shared his blood, and Yusuf thought the same. In truth, it was a secret she had sworn to keep forever, a truth locked away in the corners of her heart, safe yet heavy with the weight of the years. 🤐
She looked out the window, watching the branches sway in the soft breeze, and whispered to herself, "Some truths are not meant to change the world. They are meant to be kept, even if the heart carries the ache of them alone."
Even now, decades later, Melathi carried that ache quietly ,her secret woven into the very fabric of her family, shaping lives without a single soul suspecting, shaping Yugh without him ever knowing. 🙃