The Blood Oath

Chapter 49: Missing Them

Cynthia wearily made her way through the front door, her steps slow and labored.

A fit of coughing wracked her frail frame, and she paused to catch her breath, leaning against the wall for support.

Though she was only in her 70s, years of hard work and poor health had taken a heavy toll, leaving Cynthia feeling much older than her years.

As the coughing subsided, Cynthia suddenly heard raised voices coming from outside. Peering through the window, she saw her daughter Nene engaged in a heated argument with a vendor at the nearby market.

The dispute seemed to be escalating rapidly, and before Cynthia could react, Nene shoved the other woman, who then lunged forward, grabbing Nene's shirt.

"Nene! Stop this at once!" Cynthia called out, her voice strained. But her daughter was lost in the fury of the moment, trading blows with the other woman as onlookers gathered around.

Cynthia knew she had to intervene, but the very thought of venturing out into the commotion left her winded.

Mustering her strength, Cynthia pushed open the door and hurried towards the fracas, coughing all the while. "Please, someone help!" she called out, hoping the other neighbors would come to her aid in breaking up the fight.

As the neighbors rushed in to try and separate Nene and the other woman, Cynthia reached Nene's side, placing a trembling hand on her daughter's arm.

"Nene, that's enough!" Cynthia said, her voice sharp despite her labored breathing. "What has gotten into you?"

But Nene was far from finished, continuing to shout and struggle against Cynthia's feeble grasp. "She accused me of stealing! I wasn't going to just let her get away with that!" Nene yelled, her face flushed with anger.

Cynthia tightened her hold, trying to steer her daughter away from the commotion. "We'll discuss this at home, Nene. This is not the way," she pleaded, her eyes begging Nene to calm down.

However, Nene refused to relent, yanking her arm free and storming off towards their small house, Cynthia hurrying to keep up. Once inside, Nene whirled around, her eyes blazing.

"I can't believe you made me leave like that! She had no right to accuse me, and I was going to teach her a lesson!" Nene shouted, her voice echoing through the cramped living room.

Cynthia sank down onto the worn sofa, her body trembling with exhaustion. "Nene, please. This fighting has to stop. It's not good for either of us," she pleaded, her tone laced with a deep weariness.

But Nene refused to listen, storming up the rickety stairs to her room and slamming the door, leaving Cynthia alone with her thoughts, overwhelmed by the stress and frustration of the situation.

Cynthia sat on the couch, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion and defeat.

Turning her head, her gaze fell upon the collection of picture frames that lined the shelves along the wall.

In the photographs, she saw her family in happier times - her husband Benjamin, strong and vibrant, beaming as he held their children, when they were just young, carefree kids.

Cynthia's heart ached as she traced her fingers over the images, remembering the joy and warmth that had once filled their modest home.

Oh, how she missed those days. Back then, Benjamin had been the steadfast rock that anchored their family, his gentle guidance and support helping them weather even the toughest of challenges.

And the children, so full of wonder and laughter, had been a constant source of light in Cynthia's life.

But now, everything had changed. Benjamin had passed away years ago, leaving Cynthia to shoulder the burdens alone.

And Nene, once a sweet and obedient child, had grown into a headstrong and volatile young woman, her quick temper and defiant nature often putting her at odds with her aging mother.

Cynthia's weary eyes filled with tears as she longed to go back to those simpler times, when her family had been whole and happy.

Now, she could barely muster the energy to
keep up with everyone's outbursts, let alone find the strength to guide her daughters back to the right path.

With a heavy sigh, Cynthia leaned back into the couch, feeling the weight of her years pressing down on her.

If only she could see her children's faces light up with joy once more, as they had in those cherished photographs. But now, the distance between them seemed to grow wider with each passing day.