Chapter 35: A Mother's Warmth
"He who has a why to live can bear almost any how."
— Friedrich Nietzsche
He sat at his desk.
Quiet.
Still.
Staring at the excel.
Staring at Hillan's face.
A tear slipped down.
<
Adrian said nothing.
<
His grip tightened on the sheet.
"…It was fun," he said quietly.
"…Until I lost something."
A pause.
<>
"And what would that change?"
Knock.
He turned.
They were all still there.
The only people he truly cared about.
And yet—
He would never say it.
Creak.
"Son…"
Maria stepped in.
He looked at her—
No hatred.
Only warmth.
Something in him broke.
The tears came faster now. Uncontrolled.
She closed the distance instantly, pulling him into her arms.
"I'm so—"
"Hush."
Her voice was soft, firm. Final.
She rested her head against his.
"It's alright."
No grand speech.
No judgment.
Just presence.
His shoulders shook.
"I tried to protect you… and dad…" he said, voice cracking.
"I know."
She pulled back slightly, her hand moving gently through his hair.
"You're still my boy."
She sat on the bed, patting her lap.
He hesitated—
Then moved.
Resting his head there.
A quiet moment.
"I didn't need all of this," she said softly. "I just needed you."
His eyes tightened.
"They needed something to fear," he muttered.
"I don't care about them."
Her hand stilled for a moment.
"I care about you."
Silence.
"I watched you grow," she continued. "I saw what you were becoming."
A pause.
"But you aimed it in the wrong direction."
Her fingers resumed their slow movement.
"You thought I wanted peace," she said. "I didn't."
Another pause.
"I wanted you… where you belong."
Adrian's eyes opened slightly.
"I know who you are," she said quietly. "Not what they call you."
A longer silence settled between them.
Then—
"I'll give you something instead," she said.
Her voice changed. Subtle. Resolute.
"A purpose."
He didn't move.
"Bring your father back."
The air stilled.
Outside, distant birds carried on like nothing had changed.
"But this time…" she added, looking ahead, not down at him.
"I want you to do it."
Not the mask.
Not the devil.
Him.
"You've hidden yourself for too long," she said. "Even before all of this."
A pause.
"That isn't weakness."
Another.
"But I want to see my son again."
His fingers curled slightly.
"You have people waiting for you," she said. "Not for what you are… but for who you choose to be."
Slowly—
He sat up.
Their eyes met.
"I love you," he said.
Quiet. Certain.
"I know."
A faint nod.
"I'm sorry… I never said it."
"You just did."
A beat.
"What do you want now?" she asked.
He turned toward the window.
The world outside looked the same.
Broken.
False.
Unchanged.
"…There are things in this world pretending to be absolute," he said.
His voice was calm now.
Clear.
"They decide what is right… what is allowed… what must be feared."
A pause.
"I don't like that."
He turned back to her.
"I'll take him back."
A slight narrowing of his eyes.
"And after that…"
A breath.
"…we'll see what deserves to remain."
Maria said nothing.
She simply watched him—
And began humming softly.
A quiet, wordless melody.