The Lost Luna Is In Our Midst (Moon Goddess)

Sad day



Belinda’s mother, sitting in the audience, watched with a heavy heart, her eyes reflecting a mix of love and sorrow. The distance between mother and daughter felt palpable, as if an invisible barrier had been erected by the choices made on this fateful day.

The exchange of rings, once a symbol of eternal love, now carried the weight of sacrifice. Belinda couldn’t help but glance at her wedding band, a token of commitment to James, and wonder about the cost of that commitment.

As the officiant declared them married, the applause from the guests felt distant to Belinda. Her thoughts drifted to the family she left behind, the home that once echoed with laughter and warmth, now replaced by an uneasy silence.

The reception, meant for jubilation, unfolded in a whirl of congratulations and toasts. Yet, Belinda moved through the festivities with a forced smile, her mind wandering back to the family she had lost, the rift that seemed insurmountable.

Amid the laughter and music, she stole glances at the empty chairs where her parents should have been seated. The absence of their familiar faces left a void that even the cheers of well-wishers couldn’t fill.

As the night wore on, and the celebrations dimmed, Belinda found herself standing alone in the quiet corners of the venue. The weight of her choices settled in, and tears welled up in her eyes. She had gained a husband but lost the family she held dear.

In the aftermath of her marriage, the strain on Belinda’s relationship with her parents grew like a relentless storm. They couldn’t comprehend her choices, and the passage of time only seemed to deepen the chasm that separated her from the family she had once held so dear.

Months turned into years, and as Belinda tried to understand her married life with James, the distance from her parents became more pronounced. The occasional phone calls turned into strained conversations, and the warmth that used to fill their exchanges was replaced by an uncomfortable silence.

One evening, during a phone call with her mother, the tension surfaced once again.

Mother: “Belinda, we worry about you. You’ve distanced yourself from us, and we don’t understand why.”

Belinda, defensive: “I made a choice, Mom. I love James, and I thought you’d eventually come around to accepting him.”

Mother, sighing: “It’s not about accepting or not. We just want what’s best for you, and we’re concerned about the path you’ve chosen.”

Belinda, frustrated: “I can’t keep defending my choices. James loves me, and I love him. That should be enough.”

Mother, with sadness in her voice: “But what about us, Belinda? What about your family?”

Belinda, her voice tinged with regret: “I didn’t expect you to understand. I thought my love for James would bridge the gap, but it only seems to widen.”

The conversation ended with a heavy silence, leaving Belinda with a sense of isolation that lingered in the air like an unresolved melody.

As the years passed, significant family events came and went without Belinda’s presence. Birthdays, holidays, and even moments of crisis unfolded with the haunting absence of the daughter they once cherished.

One day, during a rare visit home, Belinda attempted to mend the frayed bonds.

Belinda: “I miss you, Mom. I miss all of you. Can’t we find a way to move past this?”

Mother, tearfully: “Belinda, you’re our daughter, and we love you. But the choices you’ve made have consequences. We can’t pretend everything is the same.”

Belinda, desperate: “I don’t want to lose my family, but I can’t abandon James either. I’m stuck in the middle.”

Father, sternly: “Sometimes, Belinda, we have to face the consequences of our choices. We hope you find a way to reconcile, but it won’t be easy.”

Belinda, feeling torn: “I thought love would be enough, but it’s tearing me apart. I don’t know what to do.”

The visit ended with a heavy heart, leaving Belinda caught between the love for her husband and the ache for the family she had left behind. The divide seemed insurmountable, and the weight of her decisions pressed on her shoulders like an unrelenting burden.

Now, as Belinda faced the turmoil in her own home, the painful decisions of the past haunted her like relentless ghosts. She couldn’t escape the echoes of her parents’ warnings.

She could still remember that in the midst of a heated argument with James, the weight of her choices became too heavy to bear.

James, angrily: “You never appreciate anything I do for you, Belinda! I work hard to provide for this family, and all you do is complain.”

Belinda, her frustration bubbling over: “You’ve changed, James! This is not the life I signed up for.”

James, dismissively: “Your parents never understood us, and now you’re turning against me too? You always let them dictate your choices.”

Belinda, tears welling in her eyes: “Maybe they were right, James. Maybe I should’ve listened.”

James, defensively: “They never supported our love. It was always about what they wanted. I thought you were different.”

Belinda, torn: “I love you, but I can’t ignore the damage this is causing. Our daughter is hurting because of our choices.”

As the argument escalated, Belinda couldn’t escape the haunting realization that her parents might have been right all along. The love that was supposed to conquer all seemed to be crumbling under the weight of resentment and regret.

In a moment of solitude, Belinda found herself reflecting on her past conversations with her parents.

Mother, pleading: “Belinda, love is important, but it’s not the only thing that sustains a marriage. Choose wisely.”

Father, with concern: “We want you to be happy, but sometimes, happiness requires more than just following your heart.”

The echoes of those words now resonated with a painful truth. Belinda couldn’t help but question the choices she had made and whether the love she believed in so fiercely could withstand the storms that had engulfed her life.

In a moment of vulnerability, she whispered to herself, “What have I done? Was love really enough?”All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.


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