Chapter 102 Cruelty
Mia's POV
"You can order anything you want," Josh said gently as he handed me the menu.
We had just left my mother's house. I still couldn't believe I had actually gone there and how it ended.
After I cried in his arms outside the gate, Josh didn't ask questions. He didn't tell me I should have expected it. He didn't say "I told you so." He just held me tighter while I broke down like a child who had lost her way.
And now, instead of bringing me home to sit alone with my thoughts, he brought me to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.
The place was elegant. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Soft music played in the background. The tables were covered in white cloth, and the servers moved gracefully as if they were part of a performance.
I felt out of place.
"Josh..." I whispered, staring at the menu filled with dishes that cost more than what I usually spent in a week. "This place is too much."
He smiled softly. "You deserve something nice today."
My chest tightened.
He didn't say anything after I cried on his shoulder earlier. He didn't ask me what my mom said. He didn't make me repeat the painful words. He simply opened the car door for me, helped me inside, and drove in silence.
After a few minutes, he glanced at me and said, "We're going somewhere good."
I thought he was just trying to distract me. But he was true to his word.
"You don't have to do this," I said quietly, tracing the edge of the menu with my finger.
"I know," he replied. "But I want to."
I swallowed hard. The truth was, I felt empty. My mother's cold voice kept replaying in my head. The way she looked at me. The way she asked me to leave before her husband saw me.
As if I was something to hide.
"You don't have to pretend you're okay," Josh said softly.
I looked up at him. His eyes weren't pitying. They were just warm.
"I'm fine," I lied automatically.
He gave me a look that clearly said he didn't believe me.
"Mia," he said gently, "it's okay to be hurt."
And that was when my throat tightened again.
"I thought..." I began, but my voice cracked. "I thought maybe she would hug me. Or at least ask how I was doing."
Josh reached across the table and held my hand.
"You deserved that," he said firmly. "You still do."
I looked down at our hands. I didn't want to cry again in the middle of a fancy restaurant.
"I feel stupid," I whispered. "For expecting something."
"You're not stupid," he said immediately. "You're just her daughter."
That hurt more than anything.
I blinked back my tears and forced a small smile. "You're going to go bankrupt if I actually order anything expensive."
He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Try me."
I took a deep breath and finally looked at the menu properly. For a moment, I let myself pretend that everything was normal. That I was just a regular girl having dinner with her best friend. That my heart wasn't aching.
Josh didn't rush me. He let me sit there. Let me breathe. Let me slowly piece myself back together. And maybe that was what I needed most.
I glanced at him again. “Thank you," I said softly.
"For what?" He asked.
"For not leaving."
His expression softened even more.
"I'm not going anywhere, Mia."
And for the first time that day, the tightness in my chest eased just a little.
“All I wanted was to greet my sister happy birthday,” I said, and my voice trembled even though I was trying so hard to sound strong. “Just that. I didn’t go there to fight. I didn’t go there to cause trouble. I only wanted to say two simple words.”
A small, bitter laugh escaped my lips, but there was nothing funny about it.
“How can my own mother be so cruel?” I continued, staring down at my untouched plate. “She was the one who left me. She walked away from my life like I was something she could easily replace. If anyone had the right to say hateful words, it should have been me. I should have been the one angry. I should have been the one pushing her away.”
I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat refused to disappear.
“But instead… she looked at me like I was the problem. Like I didn’t belong there. She drove me away as if I was nothing.” My fingers tightened around the fork in my hand. “Like I wasn’t even her daughter.”
Josh’s expression softened, and I could see the sadness in his eyes. That only made it harder for me to keep my composure.
“How can I expect someone to love me,” I whispered, my voice cracking this time, “when even my own mother doesn’t want to see me?”
Josh immediately shook his head. “That’s not true, Mia. I love you.”
I forced a small smile and nodded. “I know you do. I wasn’t talking about you.” I tried to sound light, tried to sound okay, but even I could hear the hollowness in my voice.
He hesitated before speaking again. “I don’t think Liam doesn’t love you either. He was just trying to protect you.”
A sharp ache pierced my chest at the mention of his name.
“Yeah,” I replied quietly, staring at the table. “Of course. By breaking my heart every single day.”
There was bitterness in my tone that I couldn’t hide anymore. Josh reached across the table and gently squeezed my hand. His warmth grounded me, even if the heaviness in my chest refused to lift.
The restaurant was beautiful. The food looked perfect. Everything smelled delicious. But every bite tasted bland, almost bitter. It felt wrong to cry in a place like that, especially when Josh had brought me there just to cheer me up. So I smiled. I nodded. I even forced a laugh when he tried to lighten the mood.
I didn’t want him to think his effort was wasted.
But when I got home that night and lay on my bed, the silence was unbearable.
I kept replaying everything in my mind. The way my mother looked at me. The coldness in her voice. The way she chose them over me without hesitation.
I could handle other people being unfair to me. I could survive the whispers at school. I could ignore the bullying, the stares, the judgment.
But she was my mother. She was supposed to protect me. The number one person who was meant to stand between me and the world when it became too cruel.
Instead, she became part of the cruelty. And that hurt more than anything else.
I turned to my side and hugged my pillow tightly, as if it could fill the emptiness inside me. I didn’t cry loudly. The tears just slipped quietly down my face, soaking into the fabric. I kept asking myself the same question over and over.
What did I do wrong?
What was so wrong with me that my own mother could look at me like that?
By Monday, I was exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. I felt drained.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asked as he sat beside me in class.
I didn’t look at him. I kept writing on my notebook even though I had already finished my homework ten minutes ago.
“No,” I answered honestly. “How can I be okay when you brought Liam to the salon?”
Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry. But you should know, it was Liam who begged me to come with him.”
My hand paused for a second, but I forced myself to continue writing.
“It was no big deal, Mia,” he added. “He just wanted a haircut. But we both know that was just an excuse. He wanted to see you.”
“I don’t want to see him,” I replied quietly. “And I don’t want to talk to him anymore, Daniel. So please stop trying to play cupid.”
“I’m just trying to help,” he said softly.
“You’re not helping,” I answered, finally turning to look at him. “You’re making things harder.”
His face fell. “I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
I studied his face for a moment before speaking in a lower voice. “Next time, just text me first. Let me decide if I want to see him or not.”
Daniel nodded. And just as our conversation ended, the classroom door opened. Stacy walked in first, bright and confident as always. Liam followed behind her.
The girls immediately gathered around them, excitedly talking about the upcoming game and prom. Their laughter filled the room.
I felt like I was shrinking in my seat. Everyone seemed so happy. So excited about dresses and dates and slow dances under sparkling lights. And there I was, sitting quietly, pretending to care about my notes while my chest felt like it was being crushed.
I felt empty, not just because of Liam. But because somewhere deep inside me, a small part of my heart was still standing in front of that gate, hoping my mother would call my name and ask me to come inside.
And she never did.