I Walked Away Seven Years Too Late But Right on Time novel Chapter 6

Sarah still had to rush off to make lunch for her elderly client. She got the stove going, instructed Sophie to keep an eye on the kitchen, and hurried out the door.

Sophie ate the warm oat broth, settled back into her small bed, and stared quietly out the window.

It was late March, the season of brilliant spring sunlight and blooming flowers.

From her angle, she could see a crisp patch of blue sky and the swaying tops of green trees.

Outside, the world was bursting with life, while she felt entirely hollowed out.

She had bought this cozy apartment five years ago. She'd saved up her salary and bonuses for two years and pooled the money with her mother's meager savings to buy this six-hundred-square-foot, two-bedroom place.

It was an older resale unit in a rundown neighborhood, over twenty years old and lacking an elevator, but it was finally theirs. They no longer had to stress over landlords changing their minds and evicting them from rentals.

After buying the place, Sophie rarely came back to stay.

The furniture was all second-hand stuff Sarah had haggled over at flea markets.

Sophie had wired money home every single month, but Sarah had hoarded every penny of it, continuing to live a life of grueling hardship.

She had been so selfish. She'd only focused on her mother's harshness, desperate to escape her and this shabby little apartment. Desperate to find comfort and reliance in someone else's arms.

But in the end, this was her only true sanctuary. Her mother was the only person who would never abandon her.

Once she recovered, her first priority would be finding a new job. She was going to buy brand-new furniture and turn this little apartment into a beautiful, warm home for the two of them.

Lost in her chaotic thoughts, she didn't realize Sarah had returned.

After finishing her shift cooking and cleaning for her elderly client, Sarah had rushed straight to the market on her bicycle to buy a fresh chicken.

She washed it thoroughly, tossed it into a pressure cooker with some herbs, and started assembling a hearty meal.

She whipped up a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup and brought it straight to Sophie's bedside.

"Mom, aren't you going to eat?"

Sophie watched as her mother untied her apron, threw on her jacket, and headed for the door again.

"No time. I have to get to the preschool to pick up the kid for my afternoon employer. Just leave the bowl in the sink when you're done; I'll wash it tonight."

Seeing her fifty-something mother running herself ragged, without even a spare minute to sit down and eat, made Sophie's chest ache violently.

During her four years of college, she had worked constantly to support herself, only coming home for a few days around the holidays.

After she started working, it was the same routine. Last year, she hadn't even come home for Christmas because she was too busy traveling with Luke.

How had her mother survived all these years alone?

The thought felt like a physical blow.

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