Mother was sick. She had pneumonia, thus the reason why she fainted while scolding me. I felt terrible. My father didn't directly blame me, he didn't say "This is all your fault" but he sure acted like this we because of me. My father was constantly by my mother's side and when I tried to get close, he would turn me away. He never looked me in the eyes anymore. I suppose my father really did love her, despite the arranged marriage. She was the only one who accepted him, all of him. And I had taken that away from him.
My mother was bedridden for three days, her breathing was hoarse and it kept me up at night. I suppose that was a good thing though because it let my father and me know that she was still alive. On the third day, she hadn't seemed to have gotten any better, but nonetheless she struggled to speak.
"Frederick…" She moaned.
My father jumped with the shock of hearing her speak. She was obviously in no condition to speak.
"Yes, Nadia?" He said frightfully.
She mumbled something quietly into his ear, something that I couldn't hear. After a few moments of watching them I realized something, these must have been her last words. When he stood up and turned away from my mother he was silently crying. He finally looked at me for the first time in three days and told me to go to her.
I knelt down beside my mother, she looked at me with dark, sunken eyes.
"Babette…"
"Yes, mother?" I took her hand in mine.
"This is all your fault…"
I had never been more confused before in my life. What? This is all my fault? But I didn't do anything. And not only that but last words are supposed to be kind and peaceful, not harsh and cruel.
"What?" I said with shock abundantly clear in the tone of my voice.
"I trusted you, and I gave my life for you. You betrayed me and your father. I can never forgive you."
I swallowed hard, I felt like I was having that moment where my life was flashing before my eyes but I didn't see anything. My throat felt dry and I was trembling with some sort of feeling. Fear? It couldn't have been fear but what else could it have been? I never feared my mother but at that moment she had never been more frightful to me. I wanted to stand up for myself and tell my mother how she was wrong and I hadn't betrayed them, but how could I? She was dying. These were her last words, shouldn't I let her have them? I thought about what to say but nothing came to mind, but it didn't matter. Before I could, my mother let go of my hand and her body went stiff.