Part 2 Chapter 10

 Chapter 10: The Light We Bear

2004

The Birth

The first time Tara held Indra in her arms, the world seemed to pause. His small, fragile body, wrapped in a soft hospital blanket, radiated a warmth that melted every bit of worry she had carried for months. His eyes, though barely open, seemed to hold the promise of something beautiful.

But getting to this moment hasn't been easy.

It was supposed to be a natural delivery, or at least that’s what Tara and Arman had prepared for. But as the hours of labor stretched on, complications arose. The doctor’s calm demeanor began to falter, replaced by a quiet urgency that sent Tara’s heart racing.

“Tara, we’re going to need to do an emergency C-section,” the doctor said gently but firmly.

Tara’s grip on Arman’s hand tightened. “What’s happening? Is the baby okay?” Her voice was trembling, her face pale with exhaustion and fear.

“The baby’s heart rate is dropping,” the doctor explained. “We need to act quickly.”

Arman, usually the picture of composure, felt his own resolve slipping. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently to Tara’s. “You’re strong, Tara. You’re going to be okay, and so is our baby. I promise.”

Tara nodded, though tears streaked her cheeks. She was wheeled into the operating room, her mind a swirl of prayers and fear. Arman wasn’t allowed to follow, but his whispered words stayed with her: You’re strong. You’re going to be okay.

The procedure was swift but felt like an eternity. Tara fought to stay conscious, her thoughts solely on her baby. Then, amidst the cold sterility of the room, a sharp, piercing cry broke through the air.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Tara. You have a healthy baby boy,” the doctor said, smiling as she held up the tiny, squirming bundle.

Tears spilled down Tara’s cheeks as she saw him for the first time. The ache in her body faded, replaced by a warmth so profound it was almost overwhelming. When the nurse placed him in her arms, Tara felt like she was holding the entire world.

“He’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Moments later, Arman entered the room, his face pale but his eyes wide with relief. He approached slowly, as though the weight of the moment was too immense to rush. When he saw his son for the first time, his usual stern expression softened.

“Our sunshine,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he gently touched his son’s tiny hand. “He’s our sunshine, Tara.”

In that moment, the fear, the pain, and the uncertainty melted away. Indra’s birth wasn’t just the arrival of a child; it was a triumph, a testament to strength, resilience, and the unshakable bond of love. From that moment on, Indra truly became the light of their lives.

A Home Filled with Love

Indra’s arrival was more than just a celebration for Tara and Arman. It was a new chapter for the entire family. Sophia, the eldest, was the first to claim him.

“Let me hold him, Mama!” Sophia’s voice was full of excitement as she reached out.

“Careful,” Tara cautioned, though she smiled as she handed Indra to her.

Sophia cradled him like a pro. “He’s so tiny!” she exclaimed, her fourteen-year-old heart melting instantly.

Kiara peeked over her sister’s shoulder. “He smells like… I don’t know, like happiness,” she said, giggling.

Elias and Faris, the two boys, were more reserved but equally curious. Elias, seven years older, leaned over cautiously. “Can he play football with us?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Not yet,” Arman chuckled. “But give him a few years, and he’ll be outscoring you.”

Faris, just three years older than Indra, poked his baby brother’s cheek lightly. “He looks funny,” he declared, earning a scolding glance from Tara.

“Faris, be nice!” Sophia scolded, her motherly instincts already in overdrive.

But Faris grinned, his face lighting up as Indra let out a small, contented sigh. “Okay, he’s cute. I guess we can keep him.”

The Sounds of a Happy Home

The house was always alive with noise.

Indra and his siblings loved playing pretend. They’d grab pots and pans from the kitchen, pretending they were a world-famous band performing to sold-out stadiums. Indra, barely five, would belt out songs as if he truly was Beyoncé, complete with dramatic spins and hair flips that left everyone laughing until their sides hurt.

“You’re supposed to be playing the drums, Faris!” Kiara scolded one evening, pointing at the overturned bucket that served as their makeshift drum set.

“But I want to be the lead singer!” Faris protested, earning a groan from Kiara and Sophia.

“Indra’s the lead singer,” Sophia declared, her camcorder already rolling. “No one can outshine him.”

Indra beamed, holding a wooden spoon like a microphone. “Thank you, thank you!” he said, pretending to bow.

The Blanket Fort Nights

Movie nights were sacred in their house. Horror movies were a family favorite, though Tara often questioned her children’s bravery.

“Don’t come running to me when you can’t sleep tonight,” she warned, setting down bowls of popcorn on the coffee table.

“We won’t!” the children chorused, already huddled under a massive blanket fort they’d built in the living room.

Indra sat in the middle, clutching Elias’s arm as the eerie music from the movie began. “What if the ghost comes out of the screen?” he whispered.

Elias grinned mischievously. “Then you’ll have to sing to scare it away.”

Faris snorted. “More like scare us away with that singing.”

“Hey!” Indra protested, throwing a handful of popcorn at him.

Later that night, the room quieted, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight that spilled through the sheer curtains. The one large blanket they shared became a canvas of connection, its folds wrapping around moments they wouldn’t soon forget. Arman took his place on the worn sofa, his vigilant gaze softening as he watched over them like a steadfast guardian.

Tara lay at the heart of the makeshift nest, her breath steady and serene. On her left, Sophia and Kiara clung to her like pieces of a puzzle that belonged together, their arms entwined in unconscious comfort. On her right, the boys—Indra, Faris, and Elias—rested in quiet camaraderie, their postures reflecting a trust that words could never convey.

It was just a blanket, threadbare and simple, but it cradled the weight of their shared laughter, whispered secrets, and unspoken promises. In its embrace, they were more than just individuals; they were a family, stitched together by something stronger than blood.

The night held them close, preserving the fleeting magic of that moment—a sanctuary of warmth and belonging. In the stillness, it wasn’t the blanket that mattered; it was the love it wrapped around them, making the ordinary extraordinary.

The Struggles of Love

Despite the laughter and love, Tara bore the weight of their world on her shoulders.

One evening, as she tucked Indra into bed, he looked up at her with his big, curious eyes. “Mama, why do you look tired?”

Tara smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Because I want you and your siblings to have the best life, my love.”

Indra frowned. “But you work so hard.”

Tara sat beside him, her heart aching. “Because I want you to grow up strong and smart, so you can chase your dreams without anyone holding you back.”

He reached out, his small hand touching hers. “I’ll be strong, Mama. And I’ll take care of you too.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she kissed his forehead. “You already do, sweetheart. You 

The Burden of Ambition

Life had a way of layering dreams and responsibilities, and for Arman, those layers grew heavier with every step he took in his career. After years of relentless hard work, Arman was promoted to a judge at the Ferokhnian capital, Aeroglim City. It was a position that came with immense prestige and the financial stability he had always yearned to provide for his family. But like all great achievements, it demanded sacrifice.

The distance between Aeroglim City and their home in Tilesville spanned nearly ten hours by road. The job required Arman to be away from home during the week, leaving Tara to shoulder the responsibility of raising their five children on her own. He convinced himself that it was for the best—that his absence during the week would be justified by the future he was building for his family.

“Tara,” Arman had said one evening, as they sat together at the dinner table after the children had gone to bed, “you don’t need to work anymore. Focus on the kids, on the house. Let me carry this burden. That’s why I took this job.”

Tara looked at him, her face etched with both gratitude and quiet concern. “I understand, Arman. But raising five children… it’s not just about being there physically. They’ll need you, too.”

Arman reached out and held her hand tightly. “I know. And I’ll be there—on weekends, for the important moments. But this… this opportunity is what we’ve been waiting for. It’s how we’ll give them a better future.”

The reality of his absence hit the family slowly. At first, the children didn’t fully grasp the gravity of their father’s new role. They celebrated his promotion with hugs and cheers, unaware of the void his absence would create in their daily lives.

Tara’s Strength

Tara’s days became a whirlwind of responsibilities. She woke before dawn to prepare breakfast and packed lunches for the children, ensuring Elias and Faris had everything they needed for school, and attending to little Indra’s endless demands. By the time the older siblings left for their classes, her day had only just begun.

What little time she had to herself was often spent planning. She meticulously organized tuition schedules, extracurricular activities, and even small family outings to fill the weekends when Arman was home.

There were nights when exhaustion clung to her like a heavy blanket, but she never allowed herself to falter. She had been raised in a family where opportunities were scarce, and she had vowed to give her children the chances she never had.

“Education is your key,” she would often tell them, her voice firm but full of warmth. “No one can take that away from you.”

The siblings, despite their youthful innocence, began to feel the weight of their father’s ambitions and their mother’s sacrifices. Sophia and Kiara, the eldest, stepped in as second mothers to their younger siblings.

“Elias, help me with the dishes,” Kiara called out one evening after dinner. “And make sure Faris finishes his homework before he sneaks off to play video games.”

Sophia, meanwhile, had taken it upon herself to manage the household’s emotional pulse. She could sense when Tara was overwhelmed and would quietly step in to lighten the load.

“Mom, let me put Indra to sleep tonight,” she offered one night, scooping up the toddler with practiced ease.

Faris and Elias, though younger, began to understand their roles in keeping the family running smoothly. They played with Indra to keep him entertained, taught him how to hold a pencil, and even helped with small household tasks when they could.

Indra’s Innocence Amid the Chaos

As the youngest, Indra’s world was blissfully untouched by the complexities around him. He saw his siblings as his heroes and his mother as a never-tiring source of love and care. To him, weekends were magical, when Arman would return, and the house would fill with laughter and stories from the capital city.

“Papa, why do you have to go so far?” Indra once asked, his small hand clutching Arman’s sleeve as he prepared to leave for another week.

Arman knelt down and looked his son in the eye. “So you can have everything you need, my sunshine. So you can grow up and chase your dreams, just like I’m chasing mine.”

Indra nodded, though his young mind couldn’t fully grasp what that meant. All he knew was that he missed his father during the week and loved the moments they had together.

The Weight of Ambition

Over time, Arman began to feel the distance in more ways than one. He missed milestones—Faris’s first spelling-bee competition, Sophia’s school play, and Elias’s first football match. Tara tried to record moments on Sophia’s camcorder to share with him, but watching them wasn’t the same as being there.

“You’re doing enough,” Tara assured him during a rare moment of doubt. “We’re building something good for them, Arman. They’ll understand one day.”

But late at night, as he lay in his empty apartment in Aeroglim City, Arman couldn’t shake the feeling that the price of his ambition might be heavier than he’d anticipated.

And yet, as the years passed, the family endured. The love they shared, the sacrifices they made, and the bond they built around the light that was Indra kept them together. In their own way, they each carried the burden of ambition, some through absence, others through presence but always with the shared hope of a brighter tomorrow.

Nevertheless, there were hard moments they had to go through for every single child. 

Sophia (Flashback)

Sophia, the eldest, bore the weight of maturity earlier than most children. Even as a little girl, she seemed to carry the wisdom of someone far beyond her years, shaped by the environment she grew up in. The love she received from her parents, Tara and Hamid, was genuine, but it came with its own struggles. Sophia witnessed more than her fair share of the tension that simmered between her parents—quarrels that painted the walls of their home in shades of unease.

Despite it all, Sophia never questioned her mother’s love. She knew Tara’s strictness was a shield, not a weapon—a barrier against the hardships Tara herself had faced. Being the eldest didn’t mean being spoiled or pampered; in fact, it meant responsibility. Sophia learned to be a caretaker, a protector, and a source of strength for her siblings, even when she was just a child herself.

On nights when Hamid wasn’t home, the arguments subsided into a heavy silence, Sophia would tiptoe into her mother’s room. She would find Tara sitting by the window, her shoulders hunched and her hands trembling. Tara rarely cried openly, but the way she gripped the hem of her shirt betrayed the storm within her.

“It’s okay, Mama,” Sophia would whisper, climbing into Tara’s lap despite her young age. She would wipe her mother’s unshed tears and wrap her small arms around her. “We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

Tara would kiss her daughter’s forehead, holding her tightly. “You’re so strong, Sophia,” she would say, her voice wavering. “Stronger than I could ever be.”

But strength was a lesson Sophia learned the hard way.

When Sophia turned five, Tara made a difficult decision. They couldn’t afford kindergarten, so Tara took it upon herself to teach Sophia how to read and write. Tara’s methods were firm, sometimes too firm. There were nights when Sophia’s small hands trembled as she held a pencil, her tears blurring the letters on the page.

“Again,” Tara would say, her voice stern but not unkind.

“Mama, I’m tired,” Sophia would plead, her voice breaking.

Tara’s heart would twist in anguish, but she knew she couldn’t relent. “You’ll thank me one day,” Tara whispered to herself as much as to Sophia.

Sophia didn’t understand then. All she knew was that the woman she adored more than anyone in the world sometimes pushed her beyond what felt bearable. But she obeyed, because deep down, she trusted Tara’s intentions.

When Sophia started elementary school, the cracks in her confidence widened. At seven years old, she struggled to read and write at the level of her peers. The whispers of classmates and the sharp words of impatient teachers followed her home.

“I hate school, Mama,” she cried one afternoon, throwing her bag onto the floor. “The teacher said I’m dumb. The kids laughed at me.”

Tara knelt in front of her daughter, holding Sophia’s tear-streaked face in her hands. For a moment, her own tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them away. “You’re not dumb,” she said firmly. “You’re my daughter, and you are brilliant. We’ll work harder, Sophia. Together.”

And they did. Night after night, Tara sat with Sophia at the dining table, drilling her on the alphabet, making her trace words, and reading aloud until her voice cracked. Tara’s patience wasn’t infinite, and there were moments when frustration got the better of her.

“You have to focus, Sophia!” she snapped one evening when Sophia had repeated the same mistake three times.

“I’m trying!” Sophia yelled back, tears streaming down her face. She slammed her pencil onto the table and ran to her room.

Later that night, Tara stood outside Sophia’s door, her hand hovering over the doorknob. When she finally entered, she found Sophia curled up on her bed, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I just… I want you to have a better life than I did.”

Sophia looked up, her eyes puffy but understanding. “I know, Mama. I’ll try harder. I promise.”

That promise wasn’t just words. By the time Sophia reached her final year of elementary school, she had become the top student. Her name was announced at every achievement ceremony, her certificates filled a folder thicker than any textbook.

On Sophia’s Achievement Day, Tara sat in the crowd, her heart pounding with pride as Sophia’s name was called. From her seat, Tara saw her daughter walking confidently to the stage, her shoulders straight and her smile radiant.

Sophia glanced out at the audience and spotted Tara. Their eyes met, and in that moment, the years of struggle, tears, and late-night lessons melted away.

Tara’s hands ached from clapping so hard, her vision blurred with tears she didn’t bother to hide.

Sophia held her trophy high and smiled, not just for the crowd but for her mother.

“I did it, Mama,” she seemed to say with that smile. And Tara, wiping her tears, whispered back, “Yes, you did, my love.”

The Decision

Sophia sat on the bench in the family court waiting room, her hands gripping the edge tightly. At 11 years old, she understood more than she should about the world, more than a child her age deserved to know. Kiara sat beside her, swinging her legs nervously, while Elias clung to a small toy car, oblivious to the weight of the moment. Faris, the newborn, was asleep in Tara’s arms.

Inside the courtroom, the judge finally turned to Hamid. “Mr. Hamid, would you like to address your children?”

Hamid rose from his seat, his face calm but distant, a man struggling to mask his emotions. He looked at his children and took a deep breath before speaking.

“Your mother and I… we couldn’t make it work,” he began, his voice low and even. “But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I’ve always worked hard to provide for you, to make sure you had everything you needed.” His gaze landed on Sophia. “Sophia, you’re the oldest. You’ve always been responsible, a helper for your mother. I hope you’ll keep that spirit alive, no matter where you are.”

He turned to Kiara and Elias, his voice softening. “Kiara, Elias, you’re still young, and I know this is hard for you to understand. But I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. You’ll always have a place with me.”

It was a decent speech. Thoughtful, measured. But as he sat down, there was a palpable distance, a wall that even his words couldn’t break.

The judge then turned to Tara. “Mrs. Tara, you may now address your children.”

Tara stood, her arms trembling as she adjusted the baby in her arms. She looked at her children, her lips quivering. When she finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.

“My dear children,” she began, tears already brimming in her eyes. “I don’t even know where to start. I’ve spent every moment of my life loving you, doing everything I could to give you the best, even when it felt impossible.”

Her voice cracked as she continued, her eyes locking on Sophia. “Sophia, you’ve seen everything. You’ve seen me cry. You’ve seen me break. But you’ve also seen me fight—for you, for your siblings, for this family. I know I wasn’t always the perfect mother. I pushed you hard because I wanted you to succeed. I wanted you to be strong in a world that’s so often unkind. And look at you now—you’re incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

Her gaze moved to Kiara, who was already teary-eyed. “Kiara, my sweet girl, you’ve always been a light in our lives. So full of joy and love. I see so much of myself in you, and it scares me because I never want you to go through what I’ve been through.”

Her voice broke entirely as she looked at Elias. “And Elias… my little boy. You’re still so young, so innocent. You don’t understand what’s happening, and that breaks my heart the most. But I promise you, no matter what, I’ll always be here to protect you, to hold you when you’re scared.”

Tara’s tears were falling freely now, but she didn’t wipe them away. “I know you’re being asked to choose between your father and me, and I hate that you’re being put in this position. But I want you to know, wherever you go, my love will follow you. If you stay with me, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re happy, safe, and loved.”

Finally, she looked at all of them, her voice trembling but resolute. “But if you choose your father, I will understand. I will respect your decision, even if it shatters me inside.” She paused, her tears unstoppable now. “I love you. I love you more than anything in this world.”

Tara sat down, clutching Faris to her chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The room was silent, except for the sound of Tara’s quiet weeping. All eyes turned to Sophia, the first to speak.

She stood slowly, her knees wobbling. Her young face was streaked with tears, but her voice, when she spoke, was steady.

“Mama…” Sophia began, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re the one who stayed with us. When Papa was working late or away, you were the one who fed us, bathed us, and helped us sleep. You’re the one who held me when I cried because I couldn’t read, even when you were so tired. You’re the one who taught me how to be strong.”

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Papa, I know you love us too. But Mama’s been there for us in ways you couldn’t. And I can’t leave her. I won’t.”

Sophia turned to Kiara, her voice urging. “Kiara, come on. We belong with Mama.”

Kiara hesitated for only a moment before bursting into tears and running to Tara. “Mama, I want to stay with you!” she cried, throwing her arms around her mother.

Elias stood frozen, clutching his toy. His little face was scrunched in confusion and fear. “But… Papa needs me too,” he murmured, glancing between his father and his siblings.

Sophia knelt before him, her hands on his small shoulders. “Elias, it’s okay. It’s your choice. We love you no matter what.”

Elias sniffled, his eyes darting between Hamid and Tara. Slowly, hesitantly, he shuffled toward Tara, clutching his toy tightly.

Tara opened her arms wide, pulling all three children into a hug. “My babies,” she whispered, her tears soaking their hair. “Thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”

As Sophia buried her face into Tara’s shoulder, she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “You’re the only one who ever chose us, Mama. Now it’s our turn to choose you.”

The courtroom fell silent, the weight of her words pressing on everyone’s chest. Even Hamid looked away, his jaw tightening as if to hold back tears.

In that moment, the bond between Tara and her children became unbreakable—a love forged in pain, but stronger than any hardship they would face.

Kiara

It was a quiet evening at home, the kind where everything felt peaceful, and the house was filled with a comforting warmth. Kiara and Sophia sat side by side on the couch, their guitars in their hands. The old, second-hand guitars they’d bought together from a local shop, each scratched and worn but full of character. They had saved up for weeks, pooling their pocket money, and when they finally brought the guitars home, they were both beyond excited.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Kiara said, strumming her guitar softly, her fingers lightly brushing against the strings as she hummed the opening notes of one of their favorite songs by Avril Lavigne. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Sophia, always the more composed one, nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to tune her guitar. “I’ve always wanted to learn properly,” she said with a quiet smile. “Now we can actually do it together.”

The sisters exchanged a smile, a silent understanding passing between them. They had always shared their hobbies, their dreams, and their little quirks. The music, the laughter, the dreams of becoming famous rockstars, it was a world they built for themselves—a world that didn’t need anyone else to understand, just the two of them.

After a while, Kiara looked up from her guitar, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Let’s have a photoshoot,” she suggested suddenly. “Like the cool, emo girls we are.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help but laugh. “You mean, like we used to do?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Kiara nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s dress up like Avril Lavigne and have a whole session. We’ll take pictures and pretend we’re celebrities for the day.”

It was a tradition of theirs, one they had started when they were younger, and it always made them laugh. Kiara was always the one with the wild ideas, and Sophia, though she sometimes rolled her eyes, was always game. They would spend hours picking out clothes, putting on makeup, and pretending to be rockstars, much to Tara’s confusion and amusement.

When they finished setting up the camera for their photoshoot, they both went to Tara, who had been reading in the kitchen. “Mom, can we borrow you for a second?” Kiara asked, a grin on her face.

Tara looked up from her book, her expression bemused. “For what now?”

“We need you to be our photographer,” Kiara said, her voice filled with excitement. “You’ll be the one to make us look like famous stars.”

Tara smiled, shaking her head affectionately. She had always been there for her daughters in the most loving and supportive ways, even when she didn’t quite understand the things they enjoyed. “Alright, alright,” she said, setting the book down. “But only if I get to take some pictures of you looking ridiculous.”

“Deal!” Kiara said, and the two girls ran to change into their outfits, the sounds of giggles echoing through the house. Tara couldn’t help but smile to herself as she set the camera up.

A few minutes later, the sisters emerged, each in their best “rockstar” attire—black skinny jeans, band t-shirts, and the kind of messy hair that seemed to suit them perfectly. They struck exaggerated poses, pretending to be on stage, their faces full of dramatic expressions.

As the camera flashed, Kiara suddenly sang, her voice bold and filled with energy:

"I’m with you, I’m with you..."

Sophia laughed, picking up the song and adding softly, her voice a little more melodic:

"I’m standing with you, no matter what comes. We are strong, we can’t be undone."

Kiara grinned, strumming a few more chords as she looked at her sister. “Exactly. We’ve got each other, and no one can take that away.”

Tara’s laughter rang out as she took the first photo, shaking her head at how silly her daughters looked. But it was a happiness she cherished. “You two are something else,” she said, snapping another shot as they pretended to sing into invisible microphones.

Kiara and Sophia shared a look, their bond evident in the way they communicated without words. Sophia, always calm and collected, was letting herself be swept up in Kiara’s enthusiasm. Kiara, in turn, looked at Sophia with admiration, always striving to make her sister laugh and to share her world with her.

It wasn’t long before the photoshoot turned into a full-fledged event, with Tara joining in on the fun, pretending to be a famous photographer and giving exaggerated directions. It was moments like this that Tara treasured—moments of joy and laughter, when her daughters felt safe and free to just be themselves.

But then, just as they were about to end, Kiara suddenly pulled the camera from Tara’s hands and set it on the timer. “Wait, one more picture,” she said, her eyes bright with mischief. “We all need to be in it together.”

Tara, surprised but delighted by the idea, nodded. She and the girls hurried to squeeze into the frame, Kiara sitting on the couch, Sophia standing by her side, and Tara in the middle, her arms wrapped around her daughters.

The camera clicked, capturing the three of them in that perfect moment—smiling, carefree, and united in their bond. They didn’t know it at the time, but that photo would become one of their most treasured memories, one that would be kept forever, a reminder of the love, laughter, and closeness they shared.

As they stared at the photo, Kiara grinned widely. “We should keep this one forever,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

Sophia, looking at the picture, nodded with a small, contented smile. “Yeah. It’s us. This is what we have, and nothing can take that away.”

Tara watched her daughters, her heart full. She knew that life wasn’t always easy, but moments like this made everything worth it. She smiled softly, her voice full of love. “You two are everything to me. This… this is what I’ve always wanted.”

And so, in that simple moment, the three of them created something timeless. A picture that would remain etched in their hearts forever, a testament to the strength of their love and the unbreakable bond they shared.

One warm, sunny afternoon, the kind of day that made everything feel lighter. Sophia and Kiara were walking home from school, laughing about something silly Kiara had said earlier. Their little brothers, who had tagged along on their walk, were running ahead, their childish giggles filling the air. Kiara was always the one who had to keep an eye on them, being the “second mom” when Tara was busy or working, and she didn’t mind at all. She adored her brothers, despite how bossy she could be sometimes.

They were almost home when the group of kids from school passed by, including a boy named Zane, known for his sharp tongue. He had a knack for finding other people's weaknesses and using them against them.

“Hey, Kiara!” Zane called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “Is it true your mom’s divorced? Must be tough having a broken family.”

Sophia immediately stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she quickened her pace. She wasn’t a stranger to Zane’s cruel comments, but she had learned to ignore them. Kiara, on the other hand, stopped in her tracks. The words hit her like a slap in the face, but what stung even more was the way they were directed at her mother.

Kiara’s chest tightened, and before Sophia could stop her, she turned around and marched up to Zane, her eyes burning with a protective fury. “You think it’s funny to make fun of my mom? You don’t know anything about us,” she said, her voice low but fierce.

Zane raised an eyebrow, unfazed by Kiara’s anger. “Oh, come on, it’s just a joke. You should lighten up.”

But Kiara wasn’t laughing. “A joke?” she said, stepping closer, her voice growing colder. “You think it’s funny to talk about something you don’t even understand? My mom’s worked harder than anyone I know to make sure we’re okay, and you want to make fun of her for being strong? You have no right!”

The group of kids behind Zane exchanged uncomfortable glances, not expecting Kiara to react this way. Most of them had always seen her as the quieter, more reserved sister compared to Sophia, who was the more academic and rational one. But Kiara wasn’t about to let anyone insult her family.

Sophia stepped forward, placing a hand on Kiara’s arm. “Kiara, don’t,” she urged, her voice soft but firm. “They’re just trying to get a rise out of you. We don’t need to stoop to their level.”

But Kiara pulled her arm away, not backing down. “I don’t care what they think,” she said, her voice steady, though the anger in her eyes remained. “Nobody talks about my mom like that. No one.”

Zane’s face twisted into a smirk, clearly amused by her reaction. “Alright, alright, chill out,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t get so worked up.”

But Kiara wasn’t finished. “You should apologize,” she snapped, her fists clenched at her sides. “You think it’s funny now, but if you ever talk about my family like that again, I won’t let it slide.”

Sophia sighed, stepping in between her sister and Zane. “Let’s just go home, Kiara,” she said, her tone more calm than before, but her eyes betraying the concern she felt. Kiara, taking one last glare at Zane, finally turned around, storming off toward home.

The next morning, Tara was sitting in the kitchen, sipping her coffee when the phone rang. She answered it, her voice professional as she greeted the caller, but within moments, her expression shifted to one of concern.

“Tara, we’ve had an incident at school involving your daughter, Kiara,” the voice on the other end said. “I think you should come in and discuss it.”

Tara’s stomach dropped. She wasn’t surprised—Kiara’s fiery spirit had always been one to stand her ground. But she was worried. What had happened?

By the time Tara arrived at the school, she was greeted by the principal, a stern-looking woman who led her to an office. As soon as they sat down, the principal handed Tara a report of the previous day’s events. Apparently, Kiara had confronted Zane for making fun of their family. Tara read through the notes, her heart swelling with pride for Kiara’s bravery.

“So, Kiara stood up to the kids who were teasing her about your divorce,” the principal explained. “While I commend her for defending herself and her family, we need to make sure this doesn’t escalate further.”

Tara nodded, her fingers tightening around the edges of the report. She knew Kiara’s protective nature, but she also knew her daughter’s temper. “I understand. I’ll talk to her.”

Later that evening, when Kiara returned home, Tara was waiting for her. The tension in the air was palpable, and Kiara’s usual fiery confidence seemed dimmed.

“Kiara,” Tara said quietly, her tone serious but not harsh, “We need to talk about what happened at school today.”

Kiara’s shoulders stiffened, and she cast her eyes downward. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just couldn’t let them talk about you like that.”

Tara reached out and cupped Kiara’s chin, lifting her face so their eyes met. “I’m proud of you for standing up for me,” she said softly. “You did the right thing. But I don’t want you getting into trouble over this. You need to be careful with how you handle situations like that.”

Kiara’s lip quivered for a moment, and then she nodded. “I understand, Mom.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid to stand up for yourself,” Tara continued, “but let’s try to find a way to do it without making things worse.”

Kiara looked up at her mother, her eyes filled with determination. “I won’t let anyone hurt our family,” she said quietly but with unwavering conviction.

Tara’s heart swelled, a mixture of pride and a sense of quiet worry. She knew Kiara would always be the one to defend them, but she also wished her daughter didn’t have to carry such a heavy burden at such a young age. Despite everything, she was proud of Kiara’s strength.