Angelic tears

Chapter 1 |The Beginning of a disastrous choice|

As I ran through the corridors of the church, I slammed into something rock-hard. It was a man, a head taller than me and huge, dressed in black clothes with an old-fashioned flat hat. I was so caught up at that moment that I didn't pay much attention to it. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Where are you going, and how are you running so fast?"

It was my sister, who had run after me, trying to catch up with me. I quickly started running away again until I reached a dead end. I was out of breath when she finally caught up with me.

"I had no idea you ran so fast," she said, trying to catch her breath from running.

"Well, there's a lot more you don't know," I said to her. It was true; she didn't know a thing about me. My sister was ten years older than me, so we didn't really bond much, but we still loved each other dearly.

As I stood there, cornered by the dead end, I couldn't escape the inevitable conversation. My sister, Emma, looked at me with a mix of concern and exhaustion. I knew she wanted to help, but I wasn't sure if she could understand.

"Listen, Luna," Emma began, her voice softening. "I know this is hard for you. It's hard for all of us."

I looked away, staring at the cold, unyielding wall in front of me. "You don't know what it's like," I said quietly. "You were always closer to Mom. You didn't see how much she struggled when you weren't around."

Emma's eyes filled with tears. "I know more than you think," she replied. "I saw her pain too. I tried to help, but it was like she had built a wall around herself. I was ten years older, but that didn't make it any easier."

I turned to face her, feeling a surge of anger and frustration. "You left," I accused. "You went off to college, started your own life. You weren't here when things got really bad."

Emma took a step closer, her expression pained. "I had to leave, Luna. I needed to find my own way. But that doesn't mean I stopped caring about Mom, or you."

"Then why didn't you come back?" I shot back, tears now streaming down my face. "Why didn't you help when she needed you the most?"

Emma wrapped her arms around me, and I didn't resist. "I made mistakes," she whispered. "I thought giving her space would help. I thought she needed to find her strength on her own. I was wrong, and I'm so sorry."

For a moment, we just stood there, holding each other and crying. The weight of our mother's death pressed down on us, but in that shared grief, there was a glimmer of understanding.

"I miss her so much," I admitted, my voice breaking.

"Me too," Emma said. "Every single day. But we have to stick together now. It's what she would have wanted."

I nodded, knowing she was right. Despite our differences, despite the years and the distance, we were still sisters. And in that moment, I felt a small but significant shift—a beginning of healing, and a step towards understanding each other better, but it didn't go as planned.

-Continued