Chapter 3: Makeovers, Memories, and Motherhood

The next morning, I took my mom to the mall.

She seemed surprised, but I just smiled, linking my arm through hers. "We're having a girls' day. You deserve it."

“Haley, why’d you bring me here?”

She looked around, nervous. The crowds and bright lights seemed overwhelming after weeks cooped up at home.

“To buy you clothes!”

I grinned, dragging her toward the racks. She laughed, a real laugh, for the first time in ages.

I picked out a trendy orange pencil skirt. “Try this, Mom.”

I held it up, imagining how good it would look with her skin tone. She hesitated, but I nudged her toward the fitting room.

She looked at the bright color and shook her head. “It’s too bold for someone my age.”

She blushed, looking at her reflection. I rolled my eyes.

“Says who? My mom’s beautiful.”

I pouted, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes. She relented, taking the skirt and disappearing behind the curtain.

When she stepped out, I gasped. She looked ten years younger, her smile bright and genuine.

Standing in front of the mirror, she said, “I used to love dressing like this, but your grandma said it wasn’t practical for chores.”

Her voice was wistful, her fingers tracing the fabric. I saw a spark in her eyes that I'd almost forgotten.

“Grandma’s in assisted living now. You can wear whatever you like.”

I grinned, spinning her around. "It's your turn to do what you want."

My mom was delighted, trying on five or six more outfits.

She laughed, twirling in front of the mirror. The saleswoman clapped, telling her how gorgeous she looked.

The saleswoman beamed. “Shall I wrap them all up for you?”

She looked at me, uncertain. I nodded, pulling out my wallet.

My mom hesitated, feeling guilty about spending. Our family was doing well now, but she’d been through hard times with my dad—always generous with us, but stingy with herself.

She wrung her hands, glancing at the price tags. I squeezed her shoulder. "You deserve this, Mom."

I handed over my card. “Yes, wrap them all up. And she’ll wear this one out.”

The cashier smiled, helping my mom into her new outfit. She looked radiant.

“Mom, don’t bother saving money for Dad. If you don’t use it, someone else will.”

I winked, making her laugh. She nodded, finally letting herself enjoy the moment.

She looked conflicted, but finally agreed. “You’re right.”

She took a deep breath, standing a little taller. I felt a swell of pride.

I took her to get her hair done, dyeing her long black hair into soft brown curls, giving her a gentle, elegant vibe.

The stylist gushed over her thick hair, curling it into soft waves. When she saw herself in the mirror, her eyes sparkled.

In the afternoon, while getting her nails done, we ran into her old classmates. They all praised her, and one of the guys insisted on treating us to dinner.

They hugged her, reminiscing about college days. The uncle joked about old crushes, making my mom blush.

My mom couldn’t refuse, and I got to hear stories about her past.

Over dinner, they told tales of wild dorm parties, late-night study sessions, and summer road trips. My mom laughed, her eyes shining.

She was the first female college student in her hometown, majoring in foreign languages—a big deal back then. She spoke English fluently and had even worked as an interpreter for visiting executives.

I listened, amazed. I’d never realized how accomplished she was before she gave it all up for our family.

My dad had fallen for her at a banquet, and she’d been smitten by his looks and gentle manner. When they married, so many of her admirers got drunk at the wedding.

He winked at me, telling me how my dad used to chase my mom around campus, carrying her books.

“But that guy’s a real jerk—doesn’t appreciate you at all, and he’s obsessed with having a son!”

The classmate, tipsy, grabbed my hand. “When your grandpa was dying, your mom stayed by his bedside for three days without sleep and collapsed. She lost the baby and her health suffered. Everyone in the town knows! Your mom’s been through so much.”

He squeezed my hand, his eyes misty. My mom wiped away a tear, trying to smile.

My mom’s eyes filled with tears.

She blinked rapidly, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. I reached across the table, squeezing her hand.

I’d never heard these stories from her before…

I felt a lump in my throat, realizing how much she'd sacrificed for all of us.

I squeezed her hand, wanting to warm her heart.

I leaned in, whispering, "I'm so proud of you, Mom."

After dinner, my feelings were a tangled mess. My mom had once shone so brightly, but now she was trapped in a tiny home, lost in the daily grind…

As we walked back to the car, she squeezed my arm, her steps lighter than I'd seen in years. I promised myself I'd help her shine again.

We got home around nine. My mom joked, “Do you think your dad will be shocked when he sees me like this?”

She spun around, her skirt flaring. I laughed, snapping a photo for her to send to her friends.

I pressed my fingerprint and pushed open the door, just in time to see my dad and Debbie hurriedly separate on the couch.

They jumped apart, guilt written all over their faces. Debbie smoothed her hair, my dad cleared his throat.

Without thinking, I stepped in front of my mom.

I blocked her view, shielding her from the awkward scene. My dad looked away, embarrassed.

“Mom, I really want some ice cream. Let’s go buy some.”

I grabbed her hand, steering her toward the door. She hesitated, confused, but followed my lead.

My dad coughed awkwardly. “Why are you back so late?”

He tried to sound casual, but his voice was tight. Debbie busied herself with her phone, pretending not to notice us.

It took a moment for my mom to react. She bent down, hands trembling as she tried to untie her shoes, but couldn’t manage it. I knelt down and helped her.

I slipped off her shoes, smiling up at her. "You look amazing, Mom. Don't let them get to you."

My dad finally noticed her new outfit, his eyes lighting up.

He stared for a long moment, his mouth open in surprise. For a second, I saw a flicker of the old admiration.

“That’s how you should dress! When we first met, you looked like that. After we married, you got lazy and stopped caring. Haley, take your mom shopping more. I never want to take her out in her usual clothes.”

His words stung, but my mom just nodded, her smile fading. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him ruin her night.

Suddenly, my hand felt warm—my mom’s tears were falling onto it. She wiped her eyes, embarrassed at being caught.

I squeezed her hand tighter, letting her know I was there for her, no matter what.

My heart ached for her. After all these years, all she got was criticism.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the living room. She leaned into me, her body trembling.

I looked at the couch and said coldly, “The couch is dirty. I’ll have the building staff haul it out tomorrow.”

I glared at Debbie, daring her to protest. My dad just grunted, looking away.

My dad didn’t argue, tacitly agreeing.

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. Debbie pouted, but said nothing.

Back in my room, my mom didn’t hold back this time—she hugged me and cried until she’d gone through a whole box of tissues. When she calmed down, I gently put a cold towel on her eyes.

I stroked her hair, whispering soothing words. She clung to me, her sobs finally quieting.

Carefully, I asked, “Mom, you saw what just happened. Are you still going to pretend nothing’s going on?”

I kept my voice gentle, not wanting to push too hard. She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

She avoided my gaze, mumbling, “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. We got home early, and nothing actually happened.”

Even now, she chose to deceive herself.

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up. She deserved so much better.

I had to make her face the truth!

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I had to do next.

I pulled out my phone and showed her the video I’d recorded the night before.

I handed her the phone, watching her face as she watched the footage. Her hands shook, her eyes wide with shock.

The things they said were disgusting.

She covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight.

My mom’s face went completely pale. After a long silence, she finally said, “Haley, can I sleep with you tonight?”

Her voice was so small, so fragile. I nodded, pulling back the covers for her.

My nose stung. “Of course. It’s been ages since we slept together.”

I tried to lighten the mood, but my voice cracked. She smiled weakly, crawling into bed beside me.

We lay in the dark for a long time. My mom hugged me. “My Haley’s all grown up, taking care of me now.”

She stroked my hair, her touch gentle and loving. I blinked back tears, squeezing her hand.

I didn’t say anything, so she rambled on. “You used to be so tiny, always crying. When you started kindergarten, you cried at home for three days and refused to go…”

Her voice was soft, full of nostalgia. I smiled, remembering those days.

After a pause, I asked, “Mom, if you missed me so much, why did you send me to boarding school so young?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with old pain. She hesitated, then sighed.

She stiffened, then sighed. “You still remember.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. I nodded, waiting for her to explain.

I’d been in boarding school since elementary school through high school—rarely home.

I remembered the loneliness, the long nights spent staring at the ceiling, wishing I was home.

“Do you blame me?”

Even in the dark, I could hear the worry in her voice.

I turned to look at her, speaking seriously. “I never blamed you.”

I squeezed her hand, hoping she believed me. She let out a shaky breath, relief flooding her face.

She explained softly, “Your grandparents lived with us then, always pressuring me to have a son. I didn’t want you to hear that. Having you was enough for me.”

Her words broke my heart. I hugged her tighter, wishing I could erase all the pain she'd endured.

My nose stung. I vaguely remembered my grandparents scolding me for not being a boy, but it was so long ago.

The memories were fuzzy, but the feeling of not being enough lingered.

“Mom, have you been happy all these years?”

I waited, holding my breath. She stroked my hair, her eyes distant.

She paused, touching my face. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”

Her honesty surprised me. I squeezed her hand, grateful for her trust.

“Happier than tonight with your old friends?”

I’d never seen her so happy before.

She smiled, her eyes shining. "It's been a long time since I laughed like that."

“They were my college friends. We used to be close, but after marriage, everyone got busy with their own families.”

Her voice was wistful, full of longing for a life she’d left behind.

She told me stories of her youth—how lively she’d been, not quiet like now.

She laughed, describing wild nights out, spontaneous road trips, and long talks over coffee. I listened, picturing her as a young woman, full of dreams.

She’d once worked as a translator for a Fortune 500 company, had many suitors, even participated in international projects. A foreigner had even courted her, but my grandma was too conservative.

I imagined her at conferences, her voice clear and confident, surrounded by admirers. She was a star, once.

After marriage, my grandpa got sick, so she quit her job to care for him. Then I was born.

She described the long nights by his bedside, the endless chores, the way her dreams slowly faded.

When my grandma finally went to assisted living, my mom had lost touch with the outside world and didn’t dare step out again.

She said it quietly, almost as if confessing a sin. I hugged her, promising to help her find her way back.

My dad always criticized her, making her doubt herself.

I clenched my jaw, anger burning in my chest. He’d chipped away at her confidence, bit by bit.

I snuggled into her arms. “Mom, do you regret having me?”

My voice was small, afraid of the answer. She kissed my forehead, her eyes shining with love.

She kissed my forehead gently. “No, Haley, you’re the best gift life ever gave me.”

I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding me. I hugged her tight, never wanting to let go.

I hugged her tightly.

We lay like that for a long time, the silence comfortable and safe. I knew what I had to do next.

I had to move my plan forward—fast!

I made a mental checklist: gather evidence, protect my mom, and get them out of our lives for good.

But I never expected Debbie to hand me the perfect opportunity so soon.

I couldn't believe my luck. Sometimes, karma really does show up right on time.

One day, after my checkup at my best friend’s hospital—

I sat in the waiting room, fidgeting with my phone, my mind racing with plans.

“Haley, aren’t you burning up dressed like that?”

She eyed my oversized sunglasses and beat-up mask.

She snickered, snapping a picture. "You look like you're about to rob a bank, not get a checkup."

I flopped into a chair. “Don’t even start. I spent half the night crying with my mom. My dad’s cheating right under our noses, and we caught him in the act.”

She winced, patting my shoulder. "Girl, your family is wild. But you got this."

My best friend listened, then gave me a thumbs up.

She grinned. "You know what? After my shift, drinks are on me."

“I’ve got one last patient. Wait and we’ll go eat.”

She hustled off, leaving me to scroll through my phone, lost in thought.

I adjusted my disguise, not wanting anyone to see my puffy face.

I slouched lower in my seat, trying to look invisible.

Just as I pulled out my phone, I heard a familiar voice. Looking up, I saw Debbie walk in, hand-in-hand with a blond guy.

My jaw dropped. Debbie was all smiles, her arm linked with a man I’d never seen before. He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine—tall, blond, and clearly not from around here.

“Doctor, I’m fifteen weeks pregnant. I’d like an amniocentesis.”

Her voice was soft, almost shy. The man beside her squeezed her hand, nodding at the doctor.

The man added, “And a DNA test for me and the baby.”

His voice was low and serious. The doctor barely blinked, just typed their info into the computer.

My friend barely glanced at them before nodding and checking the records.

She didn’t recognize Debbie, but I could tell she was already suspicious.

It took me a moment to process—Debbie was cheating on my dad, too, and had a side guy?

My mind reeled. The hypocrisy was almost laughable.

I started secretly taking photos and recording audio.

I angled my phone just right, snapping pictures and recording their conversation. If I needed leverage, this was it.

Debbie glanced my way but didn’t recognize me, thanks to my disguise.

She wrinkled her nose, then turned back to her lover, whispering something in his ear.

After her last patient, my friend stretched and asked, “Did you know that woman?”

She cocked her head, eyeing me suspiciously. I hesitated, then nodded.

I paused. “That’s my dad’s mistress.”

Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping. "No way!"

She was speechless.

She gaped at me, then burst out laughing. "Only you, Haley. Only you."

I sneered, “Let’s make sure my dad gets a DNA test with her baby. Who knows whose it is?”

I grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Justice was coming, and it was going to be sweet.

Good thing my senior year was mostly internships, so I had time to deal with this mess at home.

I checked my calendar, grateful for the flexibility. I was ready to finish this once and for all.

That night, I came home to find my parents and Debbie on the couch, shopping bags on the table.

They looked up as I walked in, my mom’s eyes wary, my dad’s face unreadable. Debbie beamed, her arms full of new clothes.

I pulled out a dress from the bag and held it up. “Mom, you remembered the dresses I liked yesterday.”

I waved the dress in the air, watching Debbie’s reaction.

My mom always knew what I liked.

She smiled softly, her eyes full of love. I hugged her, feeling a pang of guilt for all the times I’d taken her for granted.

“That dress is pretty—give it to me,” Debbie said smugly, shooting me a challenging look.

She reached for the dress, her smile daring me to refuse. My dad just watched, silent.

I almost laughed, eyeing her up and down.

I raised an eyebrow, giving her a once-over. "You think you can pull this off, Aunt Debbie?"

“If Aunt Debbie likes it, just let her have it,” my dad said. Then he told my mom, “Debbie’s pregnant, so she can’t do chores anymore. You’ll have to do the laundry and cooking, and make her some nourishing soup. She needs to build up her strength.”

His words were final, like a judge passing sentence. My mom’s face went blank, all the life draining from her eyes.

The last bit of light in my mom’s eyes went out.

I saw her shoulders slump, her hands trembling as she reached for the laundry basket.

Their entitled attitude made me want to laugh out loud.

I bit my lip, holding back a bitter laugh. The audacity was almost impressive.

Disgusting doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I made a mental note: enough was enough. It was time to end this charade.

But soon, Debbie’s mask would come off.

I smiled to myself, knowing the end was near.

My dad glared at me. “Haley, you’re not a kid anymore. Stop acting out. Aunt Debbie is your elder—show her some respect from now on.”

His words were sharp, but I barely heard them. I was already planning my next move.

I walked over to Debbie. As I reached for a mug, she shrieked, “Haley, what are you doing?!”

She leapt off the couch, her eyes wide with fear. I hid a smirk, enjoying her panic.

My dad jumped up. “What are you trying to do to your aunt?!”

He stood between us, his fists clenched. I rolled my eyes.

“Getting water.”

I poured myself a glass, then one for my mom. “Mom, staying up late is bad for you. Drink some water.”

I handed her the glass, my voice gentle. She took it, her hands shaking.

My mom took it, hands gripping the cup tightly, like she was making an important decision.

She looked at me, her eyes full of gratitude. I squeezed her shoulder, letting her know I was with her all the way.