When they arrived at school and class activities as usual when it was time for recess — Kate was halfway through a story about stealing strawberries from her neighbor's garden while they leaned against the schoolyard wall. Blessed was laughing, real laughter, when someone interrupted.
It was Clara, the head teacher's daughter — looking pretty and well dressed.
"Should've figured you two would be friends," Clara said, crossed her little arms, her little group of girls standing behind her like soldiers ant protecting their queen.
Kate tilted her head. "Did you need something or just here to be annoying?"
Clara ignored her and turned to Blessed. "From what i heard which doesn't seem to be a rumor you are an abandoned child no one wants, was abandoned at birth and now your adopted parents has abandoned you, you are a jinx, I see the reason why no one wants you because anyone who stays around you tends to be unlucky ".
The girl standing next to her sneered "I even heard she made her adopted brother fall ill it was the intervention of an old priest who came to the rescue or else he would have died"
Blessed's blood chilled.
She said nothing.
Kate, however, stepped forward. "You say that again, Clara, I swear I'll put mud in your mouth."
Clara scoffed. "It's true! No wonder your real parents dumped you here."
Blessed stood still. The world blurred, the laughter in the yard faded, and for a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe.
But then—
SPLAT.
Clara shrieked.
"Are you crazy, you smeared me with mud?"
Kate stood over her, arms out, palms muddy. Clara's crisp white blouse now smeared with earth.
"Yes I'm crazy and I will use more mud to grace your rotten mouth so won't speak rubbish with it" Kate said with anger
Teachers rushed in. Chaos ensued. Clara cried and screamed. Kate was dragged off to the principal's office, smirking. Blessed was left behind, heart pounding, hands shaking.
Because she couldn't she thought she could get over this ugly part of her life but she now knows it is impossible, she just had to live with that for the rest of her life.
But this time she was not alone for the first time someone stood up for her and she felt loved.
She hurriedly snapped out of her daze and followed the rest to the office to say her own part of the story because she was the cause of the fight.
---
Later that day, as the sun dipped low and the village roofs turned gold, Blessed walked home alone. Kate had been suspended for two days, Blessed hated that she felt guilty about it. She knew she was the cause and the head teacher was being partial because Clara was her daughter and Kate was suspended for no reason because Clara was at fault for slander and Kate just defended her that all.
Before Kate left she assured her that she was fine she shouldn't feel guilty that it was not the first time she was scolded or punished like that.
When she reached the cottage, Grandma Jane was outside stacking firewood. She looked up, took one look at Blessed's face, and asked nothing.
Instead, she said, "Grab the smaller logs. You'll keep your hands busy."
They worked side by side in silence. And when the pile was finally neat, Jane dusted her palms and said, "You're not made of glass. But you don't have to be stone either."
Blessed looked at her.
Jane added, "The world's sharp. Let it cut — just don't let it shape you."
Blessed didn't fully understand the words.
But they stayed with her.
---
That evening, while sweeping the kitchen floor, a knock came at the door.
Jane opened it. A postman stood there, holding a slim brown envelope.
"It's from City A," he said.
Jane nodded grimly. "Thank you."
She didn't hand it to Blessed. Not right away. Instead, she placed it on the table and poured herself a cup of tea.
Blessed stared at it, heart thudding.
When Jane finally slid the letter over, her fingers lingered on it.
"Do you want me to open it?"
Blessed nodded slowly. "Please."
Jane picked it up, broke the seal with her thumbnail, and unfolded the paper.
Her eyes scanned the contents. Her jaw tightened.
Then she looked up.
"It's from Maria."
Blessed didn't speak. Her mouth had gone dry.
Jane read aloud:
"I hope she's behaving. I trust she's not causing any trouble. I'm still trying to adjust life has not been easy, and I hope you understand the sacrifice I made by letting her go. Tell her not to write. I won't be answering her letters anytime soon. I hope the money I gave you will be enough for her upkeep if it isn't enough don't ask me to give you any money, she is old enough to take care of herself because I won't be sending money again I have tried to be a good mother".
Silence fell.
Jane folded the letter and tossed it onto the table like it burned her.
"She's not worth it," she said flatly. "Whatever she thinks she sacrificed, it wasn't for you."
Blessed said nothing. Her eyes burned, but she held the tears back.
"She still hates me," she whispered.
Jane leaned back in her chair, then finally spoke, not kindly, not cruelly — just plain truth.
"She doesn't own you. And you don't owe her a single piece of yourself anymore, you have to for yourself not for anyone."
Blessed looked at her.
For the first time, she saw Jane not just as an old woman who took her in… but as someone who might fight for her too.
Not with words.
But with presence.
With space to grow.
With patience.
And sometimes, that was louder than love.
---
That night, long after Jane had gone to bed and the coals in the hearth had turned to ash, Blessed took the letter, read it twice and folded it neatly, and slid it beneath the loose floorboard under her bed.
She wouldn't burn it.
She wouldn't forget.
But she wouldn't let it define her either.
She had a new life now.
And growing desire to be better.
---