Burn the truth (ENG)

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When I got home, Samira only had to look at me once to know that something had gone wrong.

On the way back, tears streamed non-stop down my cheeks, causing my eyes to sting and my nose to become blocked.

Ela was in the living room wrestling with her shape sorter by forcing a triangular block into a circle hole.

A smile appeared on Ela's face as I appeared from the hallway. She stretched out her arm to hold the block. "Mommy!" she yelled happily.

Her brown eyes were full of expectation and I fought fiercely against the tears. But by the time I lowered myself to the floor next to her, my vision was blurry and I was wiping my eyes with my blouse.

Ela shouldn't see her mother's crying, especially since it was my fault.

"That's a triangle, honey." My voice trembled as my finger pointed at the triangular hole. "Try that."

She stared at me with her wide eyes, and the care reflected in them cut painfully into my heart.

I've let her down - in every way. When I let my own selfish thoughts run their course and broke out.

I went to court to maintain my baby's rights and now I had temporarily lost my baby and Ela's rights.

In hindsight, my actions were totally reckless. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I control my thoughts? Why did I have to experience a panic attack in front of others?

I looked up when I heard the kitchen door close behind Faid and Samira. For a moment I considered joining them, but time with my daughter was precious and I was determined to spend every last moment with her.

Who knows when I might see her again?

The visits would be supervised and just the thought that everything I did from now on would be scrutinized to perfection made my nerves run wild.

Ela and I played in silence. Her tongue was wedged tightly between her teeth as she tried to find the right holes for her shapes through trial and error.

After some digging and turning the shapes into position, she succeeded most times in the task and the blocks disappeared into the holes one by one, accompanied by claps and giggles. "Mommy, look!"

I stroked her shiny hair with my fingers and nodded with a sad smile. I was proud of my daughter.

When Ela got tired, she climbed into my lap and snuggled into me. She placed her hands on my chest and I felt tears welling up.

I threw my arms over her figure and closed my eyes as I took in her warmth.

I pressed my lips over her dark blond hair and saw her eyelids close.

My body rocked gently from side to side until her breath became even.

I slid over to the couch to give my back some much-needed support, careful not to wake her.

Tears flowed again as soon as I put my cheek against the leather pillow, my eyes fixed on the photo on the wall.

It was a photo of my mother with Faid on one hand and me on the other as we walked through the park.

After her death, I'd stared at the photo for hours, hoping she'd come back. I had missed her greatly for the first few years, but those memories had faded and when I was old enough to understand that she had left us for selfish reasons, I began to hate her.

Her love for my father had been stronger than her maternal instincts.

Now I was no better than them - my recklessness has all but ruined my chances of seeing my children grow up.