She looked around as if she wanted make sure that they were all safe and accepted where they just entered and sat. I caught her mothering eyes that were maybe expectedly full of self sacrifice, endless hard work and worries. But she smiled just like a mother, I sent her some understanding and admiration in my smile. She stood up, looked around once again with confidence and countless responsibilities on her shoulders. Her children’s hunger and husband’s irresponsible manner took her to Italian waiter in the smell of strong coffee mixed with Vivaldi‘s notes.Her little daughter instinctively followed her.

When we have inner war...

He must have found it too much to smile at his own son. How could he incredibly manage to do that? The son’s eyes were childishly begging for attention maybe more for compassion of his father. How could he break this invisible barrier between him and his father which was as tall as the Berlin Wall? He tried a few jokes first. It didn’t work. He pushed his own chair back and nearly fell, that wasn’t good enough. Surely there was a way to make him feel his father once more…

Her suspicion made by tasteless experiences travelled from the queue ,where she was standing ,to their table, where her son was still struggling to play with his judge looking father, through her glasses hand in hand with her distrust to present that was wounded by the past.  She managed to bring food and drinks of four in one tray just like how she kept her family together for years. After all she was a mother.

She faded their hunger, she warmed their hearts with her stubborn smiles, now it was time to plant beautiful thoughts in kids’ minds. She took them upstairs to get some books but he didn’t bother to move. A man in his late 40s didn’t seem to love anything apart from his cruel self. But what was wrong with her poor self? Was it an irreversible mistake? Why did she have to be with
him? Or did they fail to preserve their love as they changed? Was it that crisis that they were struggling to cope with at their middle age?

He had a break from himself and started to look around in their absence .I so much wanted make him feel ignored, make him feel nothing, but surely time was going to take her revenge. I saw him watching women around him while I was breathing with Seneca. He caught my eyes, I sent him some insult and some shame, and that was my revenge.

They came back with colourful books in their hands and with a little noisy smiles on their faces. She looked at me a little differently this time. I felt her fears, but I know it wasn’t me who she feared ,it wasn’t my eyes that briskly escaped from Seneca’s vague  silhouette on the page and brought the darkest fears to  her face mirroring her inner war. Yes, that wasn’t my eyes that was her inner war. And I sadly knew that millions of other women were sent to the same war…

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