The Day My Daughter Celebrated Chapter 15

Mark Stevens was sentenced to life imprisonment for home invasion, robbery, and intentional injury, with multiple crimes punished together.

This time, he'd never have another chance to get out.

The wound on Stella's arm required over a dozen stitches, leaving a long scar.

David and my wedding was canceled.

After this incident, I realized I wasn't ready to enter the next chapter of my life at all.

I needed time to heal myself.

David understood. He didn't pressure me, just said, "Monica, I'll wait for you."

After Stella was discharged, she didn't leave again.

We went to see a therapist together.

In that quiet room, for the first time, we truly spoke what was in our hearts to each other.

She cried and told me she'd always had a sense of insecurity.

She didn't know who her father was. She feared that once I had a new family, I'd abandon her.

So she used all kinds of childish, hurtful ways to get my attention, to stop me from remarrying.

That "Joy Day" fiasco was her most extreme and stupidest attempt.

I listened without crying or speaking.

I just told her why I'd decided to have her nineteen years ago.

"Because the doctor said if I terminated you, I might never be able to have children again."

"I was afraid I'd never get another chance to be a mother."

"So, Stella, your birth didn't come from suffering, or from joy."

"It came from... a woman's most selfish desire."

We talked for a long time.

When we left the clinic, it was already dark.

We walked along the road, neither speaking.

Near home, she suddenly grabbed my hand.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

I stopped and looked at her.

Under the streetlight, the scar on her arm was faintly visible.

"Forgive me, please?" She looked at me, eyes full of pleading.

I was silent for a long time.

Finally, gently, I withdrew my hand.

She'd saved my life. I was grateful.

I understood her motives now, even felt a trace of pity.

But forgiveness?

I couldn't do it.

Some scars, carved into bone, even when healed, ache dully on every rainy day.

The laughter from "Joy Day," those voyeuristic gazes.

Every word she'd said was like an irremovable thorn, embedded in my heart.

My life had been destroyed halfway by that man.

The other half had been torn open by my daughter, leaving a gaping wound.

She'd used her repentance and courage to stitch that wound closed.

But the scar would exist forever.

Reminding me how absurd and tragic it all was.

Stella and I would be the most intimate strangers in each other's lives.

We'd support each other through the rest of our days.

But I knew that in my heart, I could never truly forgive her.