Chapter 142: The Past

I hesitated for a moment, my heart tightening at her words. There was something in the way she looked at me—a depth beyond the usual motherly warmth. It felt as if she wasn’t just handing me the box—she was passing on a part of herself, a truth buried beneath layers of time and silence.

Carefully, I took the box, feeling the worn wood beneath my fingers. It was small yet heavy, as if it carried the weight of untold secrets. As I stared down at it, an unsettling certainty crept in. Opening it would change everything—how I saw my mother, my past, even my future.

“What’s inside, Mama?” I asked.

Her smile faltered, her gaze drifting somewhere distant. “You’ll see,” she said softly. “But some things... Some things are better understood with time.” She turned toward the garden, her expression unreadable.

She looked at peace—more so than I’d ever seen her. Lily's sentence to life imprisonment felt like a significant relief. And one truth had finally surfaced: she’d been cured long ago but had pretended to be insane to protect me. “Open the box with your husband,” she advised. “It’s best that you don’t face what’s inside alone.”

***

Two days later, I sat in William’s glass house, cradling the box my mother had given me, waiting for Jacob. I hadn’t dared open it without him. My mother's words had echoed in my mind—I needed him there to witness whatever was about to be revealed.

The view of the ocean stretched before me, endless and serene, through the glass wall. I found myself lost in its depths until the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence.

Jacob arrived, slightly out of breath. "Sorry, I’m late,” he said, leaning in to kiss me gently.

I smiled. “I could wait forever.”

He glanced around, taking in the surroundings. “What’s your plan for this house?” He asked.

“This house holds William’s memoirs and the fruits of his hard labor,” I said, my eyes fixed on the endless stretch of ocean. “It’ll stay here, and I’ll take care of it for him.” Turning to face Jacob, I smiled softly. “Now, I want you to open the box for me.”

Jacob placed the box carefully on the table, his fingers gentle as he opened the lid. My heart raced as I watched him, my breath catching in my chest as he slowly took out the contents and laid them before me.

The first item was an old family photograph. My mother, Caroline, held a baby girl in an embroidered dress with the name "Rose" stitched across the front. Beside her stood a man, tall and handsome, holding another baby girl, “Lily,” her name embroidered just the same. The man’s face was unmistakable—it was our father, Adonis Brinson, his wide smile mirrored in Lily’s, the same smile I had seen. It was a picture of a happy family, a stark contrast to the broken reality that had followed.

But it was the next photo that made my heart stop.

Twin girls lying in a crib. Me and Lily.

I stared at the photograph, emotions swirling inside me. This image—a snapshot of a time before everything unraveled, before betrayal, anger, and secrets—felt both distant and painfully close. I could almost feel the weight of the past pressing down on me, the quiet realization that the story I thought I knew was only half the truth.

Jacob looked at me, his eyes filled with unspoken questions. But I had no answers—at least, none that would come easily.

The last item in the box was a small pink notebook, its worn edges soft under Jacob's fingers as he handed it to me. "Maybe you should read it alone," he said gently, his gaze soft but knowing. “I’ll check every corner of this house, just to make sure you’re safe.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead before stepping out, leaving me alone with the notebook and my thoughts.

I stared at the little book in my hands, a strange sense of dread pooling in my stomach. Opening it slowly, I saw the familiar curve of my mother’s handwriting on the first page. It felt like a whisper from the past, pulling me deeper into memories I didn’t know I still carried.

In the first page was an address—Heavenly Orphanage—and a telephone number scrawled just below it.

I stared at the name, my breath catching in my throat. Mama had the orphanage's telephone numbers. I wondered.

My mind spun with questions. What’s going on? How long had she known? I'd been waiting for answers from a family for years—had my mother known where I was all along? I wondered, my hands quivering slightly as I flicked over the pages, each line of calligraphy a puzzle piece, a link leading back to a past I'd yet to discover.

I turned to the next page of the notebook, and my breath hitched as I saw a list of donations—each carefully noted, along with the dates they were sent to Heavenly Orphanage. The entries spanned years.

Who was sending donations to the orphanage? I wondered. Was it Mama... or my father?

The thought spiraled through my mind, tightening a knot of confusion and curiosity in my chest. It felt like the ground beneath me was shifting; every assumption I had about my past was suddenly in question.

Without another thought, I gathered the items from the table, shoveling them back into the box with shaking hands. I needed answers—now. I ran through the house, searching for Jacob, and found him in the kitchen, inspecting the windows.

“Jacob,” I blurted out, breathless, my heart pounding. "Please take me to the old house. I need to talk to my mother. I have to know the truth—about me and Lily.”

Jacob turned to me, concern flickering in his eyes as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. "What happened?" he asked, his voice calm but tense with curiosity.

“I just—there’s something in the notebook. Donations are sent to the orphanage. Mama knew where I was all along. I need to know why... I need to understand everything.”

Jacob nodded, his gaze steady as he set the towel aside and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go.”

***

My mother was sitting in the living room when we arrived, her posture calm but her eyes distant, as if she already knew why I had come.

“Mama, I want to know the truth,” I said, my voice sharp with the sting of betrayal. I felt like my entire life had been a lie.

“Rose, calm down,” Jacob said softly, holding my hand, his touch grounding me. “Whatever happened in the past is out of our control.” He gave me a reassuring look before stepping back to give us space, leaving me alone with my mother.

She stared at me for a long moment before tears welled up in her eyes, racing down her cheeks as if she had been holding them back for years. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

I felt my own anger boiling over, shaking uncontrollably. “So, you knew I was in Heavenly Orphanage all along,” I spat, barely able to contain the hurt and rage bubbling inside. Memories of Mother’s Day celebrations at the orphanage flashed in my mind—how I wished for a mother year after year, not knowing she was out there, aware of my existence.

“And you were sending donations there. For what? To ease your guilt? ”My voice trembled with emotion as the words tumbled out, "Was that your way of making up for abandoning me? For leaving me in that place?”

Her sobs grew louder, her hands covering her face as she tried to find words.

"So, it's true," I whispered.