Chapter 262 I Can't Give Her a Mother's Love

Chapter 262 I Can't Give Her a Mother's Love

Joseph worried she'd get more anxious, so he quickly added, "It's complicated, but solvable."

Jessica's eyes lit up. "How long will it take?"

"A few hours." Joseph pulled out a silver pocket watch from the case. The dial gleamed softly under the light.

Jessica had always thought it was just a movie prop. She never expected it to actually work.

Joseph sat down in the chair by the bed. He held the watch up in front of Aria's eyes and gently swung it.

The light reflecting off the dial moved back and forth across Aria's face, like an invisible hand lightly brushing over her skin.

Aria's eyelids twitched once, then again, and then she slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze was empty, unable to focus, like a light had suddenly gone out inside her eyes.

"Aria." Joseph's voice was low and steady, like it was coming from the far end of a long hallway. "Can you hear me?"

Aria's lips moved. She didn't make a sound.

"Can you hear me?" Joseph asked again.

"...Yes." Her voice was faint, like it was being squeezed out from the deepest part of her throat.

Joseph began.

His voice stayed at the same pitch, steady and continuous, like a lifeline, slowly pulling Aria's consciousness out from those chaotic, tampered memories bit by bit.

Jessica stood nearby. She couldn't understand what he was saying—not a language problem, but the content was too technical. The combination of words and sentences had a fixed rhythm, sounding like a program or some kind of prayer. She couldn't understand any of it. But she saw Aria's expression changing.

She saw that face go from blank to confused, from confused to painful, from painful to struggling, and from struggling back to calm. That kind of calm was like the sea settling down again after a storm had passed.

When Joseph stopped, it was already dark outside.

His forehead was covered in sweat, his voice so hoarse he could barely speak.

He put away the pocket watch, turned off the equipment, and stood up to walk over to Jessica.

"Done." He kept his voice very quiet. "When she wakes up, she'll be fine."

Jessica looked at him. Her eyes were red.

She wanted to say thank you, wanted to say sorry, wanted to say so many things. But she couldn't get a single word out. She just stood there, tears streaming down her face.

Joseph reached out and gently wiped the tears from her face. "Don't cry. Your mom will feel bad when she wakes up."

Jessica nodded. She wiped her tears and sat down by the bed.

She held Aria's hand. That hand was covered in injuries, with dried blood still stuck under the fingernails.

She didn't dare use any force. She held it like she was holding something fragile.

When Aria woke up, it was already light out.

Sunlight came through the window, falling on the bed, on her pale face, and into her slowly opening eyes.

Her gaze was no longer empty, no longer out of control, and no longer as unsettling as before.

She turned her head and saw Jessica sitting by the bed, holding her hand.

She looked for a long time, so long that Jessica thought she didn't recognize her again.

"Jessica." Aria spoke. Her voice was soft and hoarse, like a key that hadn't been used in a long time.

Tears immediately welled up in Jessica's eyes. "Mom, do you recognize me?"

"I do." The corner of Aria's mouth moved—not a smile, more like an expression of relief. "I always recognized you. It was just too much interference, I couldn't even hear my own thoughts."

Jessica threw herself into her arms, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.

Aria raised her hand and gently patted Jessica's back, over and over, like comforting an injured child. She didn't speak, because she didn't know what to say.

The things she'd done, the things she'd said—"You're not my daughter," "You're fake," "You hid my Jessica"—she remembered it all.

She remembered it with painful clarity, every word intact. But she still couldn't stop herself. The interference was so overwhelming it drowned out everything else; she couldn't think. All she knew was that her daughter was gone, and she had to bring her back.

"Jessica, I'm sorry." Aria's voice was soft, so soft it would scatter with the slightest breeze. "I'm so sorry."

Jessica looked up. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face covered in tear stains. "Mom, don't say that. As long as you're okay. As long as you're okay."

She was absorbed in her heartache over Aria's suffering and her relief at Aria's recovery. She didn't notice the slight change in Aria's tone.

Aria looked at her for a long time.

She slowly sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling the blanket up to her chest.

Her expression was very calm, unusually calm. It wasn't the weakness after illness, but rather the calm of someone who'd made a decision and wouldn't argue anymore.

"Jessica." She spoke. "I'm not your biological mother."

The room went quiet. So quiet you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, the wind blowing through the leaves outside, and Jessica's heartbeat—first skipping a beat, then suddenly racing.

"Mom, what are you saying?" Jessica's voice was shaking.

She didn't understand why Aria was revealing this secret now.

Jessica suddenly felt panicked. She'd always thought this unspoken truth could remain unspoken forever, unless the real Martinez family daughter showed up.

"You're not my biological child." Aria's voice was calm, so calm it was like she was recounting a fact she was keeping at a distance. "Who your biological mother is, I don't know. You should remember—when your dad brought you home from outside, you were already a teenager. He wouldn't let me ask, and I didn't dare ask."

Jessica felt like her head was filled with noise. She didn't know how to react. She just sat there, holding Aria's hand, letting the tears keep falling.

"Jessica." Aria's voice was soft. "It's not that I don't love you. I just—don't know how to love you anymore. You're not my daughter, but you're also the child I raised. When I look at you, there are always two voices pulling at each other in my heart. One says 'She's your daughter, you raised her, she is yours.' The other says 'She's not—your daughter hasn't been found yet, you don't know where she is, you don't know if she's doing well, you don't even know if she's still alive.' Those thoughts have been circling in my head for so long—too long. I can't do this anymore."

Jessica kept her head down, looking at their clasped hands.

Aria's fingers were cold, the joints protruding, the blue veins under the skin clearly visible.

She remembered after returning to the Martinez mansion, Aria had held her hand just like this, taking her to the garden, teaching her to recognize plants she couldn't name, standing in front of her when Vivian bullied her.

Those memories were too deep, deep like carvings that wouldn't fade.

"Mom, I don't care." Jessica looked up. Her eyes were still red, but her voice was firm. "I don't care if I'm your biological child or not. You're my mom, and you will be for the rest of my life. You can't get rid of me."