Do Not Get Worked Up

Outside, the cold wind howled against the window.

“I believe he probably wouldn’t have,” Queenie murmured, her eyes clouded with guilt. “Just like me… If I hadn’t known you were my daughter, I would have continued siding with Cassandra without hesitation. I’ve been a terrible person.”

A tightness formed in Cecilia’s throat.

“Mom, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt anyone, and I don’t blame you.”

Until now, she had never harbored resentment toward her mother.

Perhaps, in some way, that was its own form of selfishness.