Chapter 10
1631words
Two years passed, and the story of our family finally transitioned from an intense drama filled with betrayal and revenge to a tender prose poem about healing and rebirth.
The craters and ruins left by that breathtaking war had been quietly covered by the vines and flowers of time.
After the storm, Alex was the first to welcome the clear sky.
That devastating betrayal once completely shattered him, plunging him into a quagmire of alcohol and self-doubt. However, with the companionship and support of his family, he eventually rebuilt himself brick by brick from those ruins. He not only established himself firmly in the family business, becoming Uncle Thomas's most capable right-hand man, but more importantly, he relearned how to love and how to trust.
The girl he is dating now is named Claire, a gallery curator with soft brown curly hair and eyes that resemble crescent moons when she smiles. Unlike Nina who was dazzling and ambitious, she possesses a serene and gentle strength, like early spring sunshine, warming Alex's long-frozen heart just perfectly.
I had seen them together before. It was on a weekend afternoon when Alex brought her home for tea. Claire didn't deliberately try to please anyone; she just quietly listened to our conversations, genuinely laughed at Lily's jokes, and showed sincere admiration when my mother talked about the foundation. The interaction between her and Alex was filled with an unspoken understanding that needed no words.
That day, Alex was helping my mother prepare tea in the kitchen while Claire sat on the sofa browsing through an art book. Alex came out carrying a plate of freshly cut fruit. Without saying anything, he naturally picked up a strawberry and held it to Claire's lips. Claire looked up at him, her gaze containing no pretense, only pure trust and intimacy. She opened her mouth, took the strawberry, and gave him a sweet smile.
At that moment, I saw how Alex's gaze became incredibly gentle. He was no longer that fragile man who was insecure because of deep love, nor was he the vengeful person filled with hostility after being betrayed. Beside Claire, he appeared relaxed, peaceful, and absolutely certain. I understood that my brother had finally found the harbor where he could let down all his defenses and safely anchor.
He had become more mature and cautious in handling this relationship. He no longer pursued that kind of passionate romance, but instead better appreciated this silent, genuine connection. He began to understand that a healthy relationship isn't about possessing or being possessed, but about two independent souls nurturing and fulfilling each other.
And I, too, found the direction for my life amid this tremendous family change.
Two years later, I graduated from university smoothly and without hesitation chose to pursue further education in law school. This decision surprised many people, but only I knew how natural this choice was for me.
It was that lawsuit that made me witness the power of law for the first time. It was not just cold text, but a weapon that could defend dignity, punish evil, and uphold justice. I longed to possess the same power to help women and children who, like my mother, had once struggled in darkness.
My first internship opportunity was at my mother's "Phoenix" Foundation. My mentor was an experienced divorce lawyer who had handled countless complex cases. Following her, I began to encounter stories that were heartbreakingly real.
My first case was assisting a full-time housewife in fighting for the property she deserved. Her husband also had an illegitimate child outside their marriage, and for years had been systematically transferring their marital assets, attempting to leave her with nothing. The details of this case, like countless needles, pierced deep into my memory, bringing back uncontrollable images of my father Victor and Nina.
One night, I was working late at the foundation's office on a critical legal question regarding key evidence. I was alone in the office, with the city's brilliant lights shining outside the window, while before me in the case files lay a woman's life about to shatter. I suddenly felt a powerful sense of mission, a feeling far more profound than mere sympathy.
I am no longer just Ava, the girl who once struggled with family scandal. At this moment, I am an apprentice of law, and what I'm doing is transforming my personal pain into a public power capable of protecting others. I picked up my pen and wrote down a new litigation strategy idea beside the document, the thought clear and resolute.
I suddenly realized that all the suffering experienced will not be in vain. They will become the hardest parts of our bones, supporting us as we move toward a stronger version of ourselves.
Mother Emma is undoubtedly the most thoroughly reborn person in our family.
Her "Phoenix" Foundation has risen to prominence in these two years, developing from an initial small office into a comprehensive institution with a team of professional lawyers, psychological counselors, and social workers. The foundation has successfully helped hundreds of women struggling in marital difficulties, providing them with legal aid, fighting for their legitimate rights, and helping them begin new lives.
Mother was no longer someone's wife, and not just a mother to Alex, Lily, and me. She was Emma, the founder of the "Phoenix" Foundation, a guide filled with strength and wisdom in the words of many women. She had her own career, her own social circle, her own life. She would attend concerts, learn flower arranging, and travel with friends. Her life was full and abundant, and her face often wore that kind of genuine, relaxed smile that came from within.
There were suitors, of course. At a charity dinner, I once saw a graceful architect express his interest in her. The gentleman was handsome and refined, his eyes filled with admiration and adoration when looking at mother. He invited mother to dance, and she graciously accepted. In the dance floor, they looked so well-matched.
On the way home after the dinner, I couldn't help but ask her, "Mom, what do you think of that gentleman?"
Mother gazed at the colorful night view outside the window, fell silent for a moment, then turned to me with a smile. That smile held no shyness, no expectation, only a kind of calm and clarity that comes after weathering life's many storms.
"He's a nice person," she said softly, "but Ava, I'm good now, better than I've ever been in my life."
I understood immediately. She wasn't rejecting love; she simply no longer needed a new relationship to prove her worth or fill an inner void. She herself was a complete, self-sufficient world. For her, love was no longer a necessity that provides warmth in the snow, but merely a possibility that adds embellishment to an already complete life. She enjoyed this wholeness and self-consistency that belonged to her alone, unhurried and composed.
In that moment, looking at my mother's elegant profile, my heart filled with infinite respect. She was the true phoenix - after emerging from the flames, her wings were more splendid and powerful than ever before.
On Thanksgiving evening, the setting sun's afterglow was like a warm golden veil, gently enveloping our new home in the suburbs.
Here, there was no longer the oppression and coldness of our old house; everywhere was filled with warm touches we had arranged with our own hands. A warm fire burned in the living room fireplace, and the air was permeated with the sweet aroma of roast turkey and pumpkin pie.
Victor, that name which once represented authority and shadow, had not appeared in our lives for a long time. At the dining table, there were only four of us—Mother, Alex, Lily, and me. Claire couldn't come because she needed to accompany her own family, but Alex spent the entire evening texting her, with a smile on his face so sweet it almost spilled over.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was relaxed and warm. We talked about Alex's new project at his company, about the interesting things I encountered at law school, about the dance at Lily's school, while mother listened with a smile, occasionally adding a comment or two. There were no arguments, no wariness, no insincere pleasantries, only the purest love and care between family members.
After dinner, we carried our wine glasses and went up to the open terrace on the second floor. The sunset was slowly sinking into the distant horizon, painting half the sky in a magnificent orange-red color.
Mother stood beside me, watching Alex and Lily fooling around not far away, her face showing a happiness and contentment I had never seen before. It was the kind of serenity that comes after weathering a violent storm and finally sailing into a peaceful harbor.
I raised the champagne glass in my hand, the liquid gleaming golden in the sunset light.
"To mom, to us," I said softly.
Alex and Lily also raised their glasses upon hearing this, and our four glasses gently touched together in the air, making a crisp sound.
Mother smiled, with glistening tears in her eyes, but those tears contained not a hint of sadness, only pure happiness. She looked at the three of us and said in a gentle yet firm voice:
"To us, and to those brave enough to start over."
The last rays of the setting sun fell on her face, giving her a soft halo. We smiled at each other, and in that warm golden light, this once battered and broken family, in this moment, truly experienced rebirth.
