My mother gave birth to me, but she never loved me. Instead, I grew up under her beatings and scorn. And yet, despite never receiving an ounce of affection, I cared for her until her final breath. It wasn’t until after her death, while selling her old belongings at a flea market, that I discovered a horrifying truth…

In a small, shabby house, a mother and daughter lived together in silence. The home was always weighed down by a heavy atmosphere, for since childhood, the girl had endured endless whippings and cruel insults. Her mother’s voice would cut through the air like a knife:

— “You are the reason my life was ruined!”

Many times, the girl, burning with resentment, asked why her mother hated her so much. But every attempt was silenced by a cold, merciless slap. Eventually, she grew used to it. She stopped asking. She learned to stay quiet, swallowing the pain inside.

At the age of twenty, her mother fell gravely ill. Though she had never known love, the daughter remained faithfully at her side, feeding her spoon by spoon, glass by glass. Deep down, she wished for only one thing — just once, to hear her mother say that she loved her.

On her deathbed, the daughter summoned all her courage, asking through trembling lips:
— “Mother… why did you give birth to me, only to never love me?”

The mother turned her head, eyes wide open, piercing with a cold, blade-like glare… then closed them forever. The question the girl had carried her whole life was left unanswered.

After the funeral, she packed up the old belongings and her mother’s keepsakes to sell at the flea market. She promised herself she would leave this place behind, erase the painful memories, and start anew.

But fate seemed to mock her.

One morning, as she displayed the worn-out items, a well-dressed man in his sixties stopped. His eyes locked onto a tarnished silver bracelet. His voice trembled as he asked:
— “This bracelet… where did it come from?”

The girl answered softly, her tone heavy with sorrow:
— “It was my mother’s.”

The man froze. His hand shook as he touched the bracelet, his voice breaking:
— “This… this belonged to my sister…”

The girl was stunned. And then, through their conversation, the truth unraveled.

Her mother had once been born into a wealthy family. In her youth, she fell in love with a poor man. Despite her parents’ fierce objections, she abandoned everything to follow him — carrying in her womb her first child, this very girl.

She had believed that love alone would be enough. But tragedy struck when she discovered that the man she loved only sought her for her fortune. When she gave it all up to be with him, she was left with nothing. And in that moment, he abandoned her without remorse.

Desperate, she returned to her family, begging for forgiveness. But their anger had hardened into disownment. They thought she had only run away for a time, never imagining she would vanish completely. Her younger brother — the very man standing before the girl — had searched for his sister for decades, but always in vain.

Hearing this, the girl’s eyes blurred with tears. They streamed down her face uncontrollably. At last, the cruel puzzle of her life made sense. Her mother, betrayed by love and cast out by her family, had been consumed by bitterness. And all that resentment, all that despair, she had taken out on her innocent daughter.

The stinging slaps, the searing words — in place of the warm embrace that should have been a mother’s love.

The girl covered her face with trembling hands, sobbing. She finally understood. But at that very moment, her heart shattered once again.