From the other side of the door, Nora’s voice was cold and distant.“I get it. I’ll do the extra lessons. Just don’t come into my room again.”

  Elaine stood at the door, stunned.She had done so much—all for this child—yet in the end, even entering her room had become an offense.A pang of disappointment wrapped itself around old wounds from her own childhood.Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.Finally, she turned and walked away, her footsteps heavy.

  Inside the room, Nora leaned against the door, her heart pounding.

  Her fingers were still gripping the doorknob so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her breathing was uneven.

  She should have felt relief.She should have felt victorious—like she’d finally stood her ground.But why did it feel like a heavy stone was pressing on her chest?Had she just closed the door on control, or on love? On her mother’s grip, or her own last thread of hope?

  In her fifteen-year-old world, there were so many questions she wanted to ask her mom. So many things she wanted to share.But she knew those were luxuries she couldn’t afford.

  She collapsed onto her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, her eyes stinging.She thought she would cry.But she didn’t.She had long since forgotten how.

  She turned her head.Next to her pillow sat the little fox.She picked it up and pressed it to her cheek.The soft texture offered a fleeting sense of comfort, but her mind had already drifted back into the past—

  A long time ago, in a toy store.She’d first seen the fox plush there. A tiny black nose, a big fluffy tail—it was everything her childhood dreams were made of.

  She’d pointed excitedly.“Mommy, I want that one!”

  Elaine looked at the price tag, frowned, and pulled her hand away.“We’ll buy it when it goes on sale. It’s too expensive right now.”

  But Nora didn’t understand what “on sale” meant.She only knew that if she didn’t take that fox home right now, she might never have it again.She clung to it tightly, like it was the only warmth she had in the world—like it was a test of her mother’s love.

  Elaine’s expression darkened.People were starting to watch.Her patience was quickly replaced by shame.

  “Let go. Stop it,” she hissed.

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  Nora clung even tighter, tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to release her grip.

  Elaine, her face like stone, gave her a sudden shove.Nora fell backward, landing hard on the floor.In that brief moment of shock, Elaine snatched the toy away and put it back on the shelf.

  Nora was stunned.Her sobs burst forth like a broken dam.But before she could even cry out, Elaine crouched down, clamped a hand over her mouth, and whispered through clenched teeth:

  “Don’t cry. If you cry again, I’ll cut your mouth off with scissors.”

  She mimed a pair of scissors in front of her daughter’s lips, her eyes stern and unyielding.

  Nora’s eyes widened in horror.That was the moment she learned—crying was not allowed.

  From that day forward, she never cried in front of anyone again.

  Later, on her birthday, her mother did buy the fox and gave it to her as a gift.But by then, it didn’t feel the same.She took the toy, but the excitement was gone.That once-beloved symbol of love had become something tangled and confusing—a chain, not a comfort.

  Even so, she could never let go of it completely.

  Now, lying in bed with the fox pressed to her cheek, she wondered if her strange dreams were somehow tied to it.

  Maybe… if she had a different mother.Someone like Alex’s mom—She always heard Alex talk about how loving and gentle her mother was…

  She began to imagine it:

  A mother who held her gently, who said, “It’s okay. Mistakes can be fixed. I believe in you. You don’t have to be perfect. Just remember—I’ll always love you.”

  But in reality…She didn’t know how to love her mother anymore.

  She lay there, burying her face in the pillow.Emotions churned in her chest, but not a single tear fell.

  No one outside the room could see her pain, her vulnerability.

  She didn’t know how long she lay there like that.

  She wanted to wake up—but her eyes wouldn’t open.She tried to turn over—but her body felt pinned, frozen in place.

  Wind.She heard wind.

  That eerie, whistling wind—shrill, chaotic—howling past her ears.

  And then, realization.Terror bloomed in her chest.

  Her eyes flew open.

  The road.That same road again.

  The wet asphalt shimmered under the stormy night, raindrops slapping her face, the wind slicing through her clothes.She stood, frozen, arms wrapped tightly around herself, scanning her surroundings.

  She turned—And saw it.

  The car.

  Still parked in the distance.

  Her heart pounded wildly.Her stomach twisted.

  It’s just a dream, she told herself.But the pavement beneath her feet felt solid.The cold on her skin was real.

  Her pulse quickened.A low, whispering murmur echoed in her ears.

  Then—The window of the car slowly rolled down.

  Darkness churned behind the glass, deep and consuming.Rain trickled down the pane.She held her breath, her body trembling.

  A raspy, broken voice echoed from within:

  “You finally came... I’ve been waiting for you.”