5

The girl nodded, a light smile on her lips, but inside she kept screaming, "Stop, Mom, stop, I can't stand it. Don't talk to me about love!"

"Have I ever told you about my meeting with your father?"

"No, you haven't."

Her mother ignored her daughter's fierce irony and began again the tale Ivyne had heard almost every week since birth and could recite by heart.

"It was at a festival. It was lively and colorful, and at the end there were fireworks..."

Lyre Raot spoke on and on, telling all, not noticing the deathly pallor of her daughter, who could bear it no longer and biting herself to bleeding, she blazed and spread a trail of fire all around them.

Her mother, unaware of the pain that was eating away at her daughter, jumped to her feet and took her daughter in her arms, staring in amazement at the fire springing up out of nowhere.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," was her daughter's only reply, weak as a mere breath when she was finally able to speak.

She shook her head and, feeling a fierce hatred for the prince, thought she'd succeeded in making him come to her.

And he did. Then everything seemed to freeze. Was he using his magic? Whatever it was, he was there, and Ivyne could pour out all her resentment on him.

"Look what you made me do!"

"What?"

"I created fire and scared my mother."

"Nobody's hurt."

"Not physically."

Ivyne chuckled.

"It's probably your way of doing things. Your way of being. As long as nothing is wrong according to the law, it's none of your business."

"What exactly do you object to?"

"To hurt me and those I love with your very existence."

A short silence followed these appalling words.

"You wish, in fact, that I'd never existed.

This time Ivyne didn't reply, so he walked away as if they had nothing more to say.

The young woman knew it would be hard to recover after this evening, more intense and heartbreaking than any other.

Everything went back to normal.

Her mother’s face was now illuminated by the infinity of stars. These stars so captivating, so far away, then Ivyne understood that her sadness was real and irreparable. Her mother stared at her, noticing her tortured face.

“Ivyne baby, are you okay?”

For a few seconds, Ivyne was unable to make a sound.

“Uh....yes.” she could finally whisper but in such a desolate way. Then perhaps to cover this sudden change reflected on her whole being, she forced herself to add a very joyful laugh, hoping that it was enough to convince her mother and make her atrocious pallor be forgotten.

“Okay,” her mother nodded in no way persuaded, then went on, solemnly. “My darling, you are officially an adult. Doors will open before you, and you'll have a variety of choices to make. You'll make some bad ones, that's for sure. Everyone does. But never let that discourage you."

“Mom…”

“Yes, I know. I repeat myself a little too much. But I'm going to miss my little girl. You'll go off and live your life, but I don't think I'll ever have to remind you that you'll always find in me an unfailing shelter."

She laughed.

"You'll understand most of all when you become a mother yourself."

Ivyne was deeply touched by her mother's words, but at the same time, she felt horribly disturbed by their meaning, as if they were forcing her to act. Her coming of age marked a new beginning, but at the same time, as this desolate prince had repeatedly told her, she had no right to let herself go, and she was supposed to know something that, for one reason or another, had escaped her along the way.

 How would she react if she were ever asked to leave a dear person? Very dear?

Life was so cruel after all. All the songs and stories tell it. That was its true description. Very little happiness for a great misfortune. She knew friends who had lost loved ones, but what about when it would be her turn?

She hardly dared to imagine that. It frightened her to no end. So terrible that perhaps she would choose to forget.

Denial was, after all, common and easy. No one would think to blame her.

“I’m weak,” Ivyne constantly told herself.

She had a strange feeling of familiarity with tragedy, and of having been really weak at a crucial moment in her life. She thought about it, then seemed to feel sweat running down her face, only to realize that it was blood. She'd hurt herself. But where and when, and above all, why? It was completely ridiculous. This was her night and yet negative thoughts dominated the moment.

People were telling the truth. Adulthood was complicated.

Ivyne didn't have to think like that, in fact, she had to start acting like everyone else seemed to be asking her to, starting with this damaged person, but if the nightmare became real, if she lost someone who really mattered, maybe it would be easier to leave with him.

***

“Dear mother, I’ve finally made up my mind. I will become a writer!”

Ivyne’s mother showed no gesture or emotion at her daughter's important announcement. Only insignificant remarks like blank canvases on easel.

“Why this choice now. I mean, after all the others?” was her mother's only eventual question, which did nonchalantly turn towards Ivyne and looked at her vaguely.

“Well.... First of all, I'm bad at science.”

The young woman frowned, not understanding, or rather not wanting to understand.

“As if I didn't know that!” Lyre Raot laughed.

“Besides, inspiration is part of my being, I inherited it from you, mother so......”

The painter shrugged.

“All right, as soon as you get this license, one of the many you already have, you’d be free to devote yourself to this new... passion. You just have to enter the Faculty of Arts!”

“Yes, Mother.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***