My boyfriend left me when I was pregnant because his mother didn’t like me. I’ve raised my son alone for 17 years. Today, I ran into his mother. She burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I’ve been looking for you all these years.”

“Then I lost him. I lost him too.”

An icy silence enveloped us. And, for the first time in many years, I felt my anger about to explode.

I don’t remember ever feeling so many emotions mixed together at once: anger, bewilderment, an unexpected pang of compassion, and, above all, that old wound I thought couldn’t possibly hurt anymore. She was trembling, trying to maintain her composure amidst the growing murmur of onlookers watching us from the market stalls. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want a scene. I didn’t want her pity. I didn’t want anything from her.

“Explain yourself,” I finally said.

She took a deep breath, like someone preparing to exhume an unbearable memory.

“The day he left you…” she began, “it wasn’t just because of what I thought of you. It was because I pushed him until he broke. I told him you weren’t ready, that you… that maybe you wanted to take advantage of him. I said a lot of horrible things. But that wasn’t the worst of it.”

I listened without blinking, trying not to let my emotions overwhelm me. But every word she spoke felt like a finger pressing on a bruise that never fully healed.

“What else did you do?” I asked with a coldness I didn’t even recognize.Continue reading…