She learned how to be an adult overnight. She took whatever work she could find, sometimes juggling two jobs at once. She packed my lunches with handwritten notes tucked inside. She sat through every school play, even the ones where I only appeared on stage for thirty seconds. She stayed up late helping with homework, brushing my hair in the mornings, soothing my fears at night.
She became my mother without ever asking to be.
She never dated again. The fiancé faded into a story she never told. Friends drifted away as her responsibilities grew heavier. Her life narrowed around mine, until I became the center of everything she did.
I grew up loved, protected, and safe. She grew up tired.
And I didn’t notice.
When Love Starts to Feel Like a Cage
By the time I married and moved into my own place, I thought we had reached a new chapter. I was independent now. Stable. Happy. Amelia helped me pack, hugged me tightly, and smiled through tears she tried to hide.
Then she started visiting every day.
At first, it felt comforting. She brought leftovers. She reorganized my cabinets. She called to remind me about appointments I already knew about. I told myself she was adjusting. That this was normal.
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