Seeds of Hatered
After fainting in the principal’s office, Velora was shifted to the medical room. The principal, deeply disturbed, tried calling her father several times but received no answer. Then he remembered—Velora’s aunt, Miss Rachael, taught in the primary section. He sent a messenger to call her immediately.
Miss Rachael rushed in, worried, and as soon as she saw Velora lying pale on the bed, her heart broke. The principal explained her declining results, her fainting, her silence in class. Miss Rachael listened, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. In a low, shaky voice, she told him the truth—the broken home, her mother’s absence, the cruelty of Sandy and Elena, the loneliness that had swallowed Velora’s childhood.
The principal sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as if the weight of all this pain pressed against him too.
Moments later, Velora stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was her aunt sitting beside her. For a second, her heart jolted with a flicker of warmth. She turned her face towards her and whispered, “Aunt… I don’t want to go home.”
Those words pierced through Miss Rachael like a knife. She pulled Velora close, hugging her tightly, her tears falling silently. But Velora didn’t hug her back. She lay still, her face blank, eyes empty—like a soulless body. Alive, but hollow. Breathing, but broken.
Three months passed. Every day after school, Velora would quietly follow her aunt Miss Rachael home, and only at night Oscar would come to take her back. It became a rhythm, almost a small relief in her otherwise suffocating life. With her cousins around, she tried to study for her midterms, though her mind often drifted into shadows.
On a quiet Sunday afternoon, Velora’s phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number:
“Hey Velora.”
She frowned, ignored it. Seconds later, another came:
“How are you doing nowadays?”
Curious, she stared at the number, trying to recall. No name, no memory. Finally, she typed: “Who?”
The reply came quick: “You forget me? I’m Neolla’s brother.”
Velora blinked. Neolla—her childhood friend, the old neighbor. She had two brothers. She asked, “Which one?”
The answer made her heart stop for a moment.
“The one who rescued you behind the tree that night… when you ran off after seeing your parents fight.”
A memory flashed. The sound of her parents screaming. Her small feet running into the dark. The panic in her chest. And then—those green eyes. A hand holding hers. A calm voice telling her she was safe.
Velora exhaled sharply, almost trembling at the sudden wave of recognition. Her fingers typed before she could think:
“Hey Derek bro… it’s been a while.”
And that was the beginning.
For the first time, Velora found someone she could talk to without fear. Derek listened to every word, every secret, every ache in her heart. Where her home had silenced her, Derek made her feel heard. Where her family broke her voice, Derek gave her space to speak.
Without realizing it, Velora’s fragile soul began clinging to him—the first man who didn’t scold, didn’t compare, didn’t command. He simply listened.
After midterms, Velora stopped going to her aunt’s place. She used the excuse of “studying harder,” but in truth, she no longer wanted to burden Miss Rachael. The villa once again felt like a prison. Every day, every night, Sandy and Elena chipped away at her with taunts, scoldings, and humiliations.
There was only one place she found relief—Derek.Every night, her texts poured into his phone. She told him everything—every insult, every punishment, every ache of loneliness. Derek would rage on her behalf, typing furiously: “How dare they talk to my Velora like this? If I was there, I’d shut them up.”For the first time in her life, someone wasn’t dismissing her pain—he was fighting for her, even from a distance. Velora soaked it in. In his words, she felt protected, seen, precious.
But protection through a phone couldn’t shield her inside the villa. Sandy and Elena never stopped.
One September evening, her mother sent her new dresses—delicate, beautiful things her own hands had chosen. Velora’s eyes lit up, but Sandy and Elena’s eyes burned with jealousy. That night, the scolding was brutal, filled with venom.
A week later, Velora’s body gave up. Fever gripped her, burning hot and relentless.
Flecter noticed her pale face, her trembling hands. “Velora, are you alright?” he asked, reaching for her forehead. The heat shocked him. “This isn’t normal!”
Sandy interrupted quickly, “Oh, it’s just a normal fever. My kids never go to the hospital for something like this. I’ll take care of her.”
But Flecter shook his head sharply. “Her upbringing is different, Sandy. She isn’t used to this neglect.” He knelt beside Velora. “Velora, let’s go to the hospital.”
Her lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper. “No… no hospital, Papa. I just… I just want to go to Mom.”
Tears slipped from her burning eyes as she tried to stand, but her head spun and her body swayed. .For the first time in years, Flecter’s heart jolted in fear..
Flecter had rarely seen Velora ill. She was always strong, hardly catching a fever, never the frail type. But today, seeing her trembling, her body burning with heat, he felt something pierce his chest.
“No hospital, Papa,” she whispered through tears. “I want Mom… I just want to be with Mom right now.”
Her words sank into him like a knife. After years of forcing her into this life, after years of pushing her closer to Sandy, Velora’s heart still craved only one person—her mother.
Flecter sighed, a heaviness filling his lungs. He looked away, hiding the conflict in his eyes. “Sandy, pack her bag,” he ordered quietly. “Let her live with her mom for the time being.”
The decision shocked Sandy, but she didn’t dare argue. Within an hour, Flecter was at his mother-in-law’s house, holding his weakened daughter by the arm. Velora could barely stand, but her heart pushed her forward, each step heavy and unsteady.
“Velora, my dear!” Nora’s voice broke as she ran forward, pulling her child into her arms. The moment Velora felt her mother’s warmth, her body gave up completely—she fainted in Nora’s embrace.
Nora’s whole world shattered. “SONA!” she screamed, calling for her younger sister.
Sona rushed in, gasping at the sight of Velora’s pale face and limp body. Just then, Benson entered. His eyes widened—then without a word, he scooped Velora into his arms.
“Hospital. Now,” he commanded.
At the hospital, doctors rushed her into emergency care. Her fever was dangerously high, threatening her fragile body. They ran tests, prepared drips, and hooked her to monitors. The doctor scribbled notes furiously before giving the first IV dose to bring the fever down.
Nora stood frozen, her hands clasped, tears rolling down her cheeks. For the first time, the family saw what years of silent suffering had done to Velora—her body had finally spoken the pain her heart could no longer carry.
The doctor’s face tightened after examining her. “This doesn’t look like the first day of fever. You should have brought her earlier.” His voice carried a scolding edge, sharp enough to slice through Nora’s heart.
Nora’s hands trembled as she pulled out her phone, her eyes burning with fury and pain. The moment Flecter answered, she exploded, her voice echoing through the hospital corridor.
“Why is my daughter in this state? What kind of father are you? How could you not see what she was going through?”
Flecter stood frozen on the other end. Shocked. Guilty. For a brief moment, fear settled deep inside him. He had always brushed away complaints, always convinced himself Velora was “fine.” But now, the sight of her frail body in a hospital bed haunted his mind.
The reports came back clear—no infection, no underlying disease. And yet, the fever clung to her like fire refusing to die down.
They brought her home. For the first time in years, Velora was surrounded by genuine care. Her grandmother sat by her side, fanning her gently. Her grandfather whispered prayers. Sona never left her room. And Benson—always stern, always composed—took it upon himself to do the hardest part.
Every time the fever spiked, dangerously high, Benson carried Velora to the bathroom. He sat her under the shower, cold water pouring over her trembling body. She screamed, cried, begged him to stop. But he held her firmly, his own eyes wet.
“This is the only way, Velora,” he whispered hoarsely. “The doctor said you’re too young, too weak for heavy medicine. This pain will pass, my child… just hold on.”
The fever refused to break. And with every wave of heat that overtook her fragile body, the family’s hearts cracked a little more—realizing that her suffering wasn’t born in a day. It was years of silent pain finally breaking through her skin.
That day should have been filled with balloons, laughter, and candles. It was Velora’s fifteenth birthday. Miss Racheal walked into the house carrying a cake, her smile wide, her voice high with excitement. “Look, our birthday girl is fifteen today!”
Everyone clapped and cheered, their voices echoing through the room. Her grandmother even tried to lift her spirits by singing louder than the rest. But Velora, pale and weak, could barely lift the knife. She cut the cake with trembling hands, a faint smile on her lips only to please them.
When the pieces were passed around, she didn’t even take a bite. Instead, she slipped back into bed, curling under the blanket, her body too fragile to carry the weight of a birthday. The room grew quiet, their hooting dying down into whispers. Fifteen years old—but her eyes carried the silence of someone much older.
A week later, the fever finally eased. Exams were drawing near, and with a heavy heart, Velora returned to the villa. Talking with Derek had been impossible during her illness, but being at her mother’s side had filled that gap—she hadn’t missed him then.
When she finally checked her phone, the screen lit up with three unread messages. All from Derek.
Hey, Velora… are you okay? You’ve gone quiet.I’m worried. Please say something.You know you can tell me anything, right?
Her lips parted in a weak smile. Fingers trembling, she typed back slowly:
I’m sorry… I had a fever. That’s why I couldn’t reply.
And with that single message, the bond they had built flickered back to life.
heo and Trey were inseparable now, two boys of the same age who filled each other’s worlds with laughter and mischief. Sandy, watching this, found new affection for Theo—after all, Trey had only one true friend, and it was him. That meant Velora was the only one left exposed, the only one forced to carry the full weight of their cruelty. Oscar was hardly home, and when he was, he stayed at the company or locked in his room. Velora had no shield left.
Her struggles in studies worsened. She failed chemistry again. Miss Racheal stepped in, insisting she would take responsibility. This time, Oscar also had exams, so sometimes he joined Velora at their aunt’s house. They would study together, then play with cousins Nancy, Nova, and Harry.
But the safe space soon revealed its cracks.
Racheal, while pouring tea or helping with homework, began whispering to them: “Your mother married again, enjoying her life, while you suffer here. What was your mistake to deserve this?” Her voice dripped with bitterness, and slowly, painfully, the poison started seeping in. Velora, fragile and confused, began believing it. Oscar too. They both carried those words like heavy stones in their hearts.
One afternoon, Velora fainted again while studying. Oscar rushed to her side, panic in his eyes. The doctor brushed it off as “just stress.” But the weight of that stress was invisible to him. They left the clinic, and Racheal insisted they stop at Granny’s home first.
As their car pulled up, Racheal pointed. “Look at your mother,” she hissed.
Velora’s head turned weakly. Nora was stepping through the door, her arms full of shopping bags, her face lit with an unknowing smile.
Something shattered inside Oscar. Rage boiled. He stormed into the house, voice loud, harsh.
“You’re the worst mother!”
Nora froze, her bags slipping from her hands.
“You left us… and now you’re enjoying life while we suffer! What did we do to deserve this? I hate you!”
His words hit like knives. Velora followed, silent tears burning her eyes, but she couldn’t stop him. She felt the sting of betrayal too—Racheal’s words echoing louder than her mother’s silence.
Jane, their uncle, stepped forward, fury in his voice. “Are you out of your mind? This is how you speak to your mother?”
But Oscar wouldn’t calm. His poison spilled like a flood.
Nora trembled, her face pale, her heart breaking. She looked at her son, at her daughter, and felt the world collapse around her.
Jane couldn’t watch anymore. He slapped Oscar across the face. “Get out. You don’t deserve to be her son.” He dragged the boy toward the door, ignoring his thrashing, ignoring his shouts.
At the gate, Oscar turned, his eyes filled with nothing but hatred. Hatred for the man who struck him. Hatred for the mother who didn’t stop it.
Velora watched silently, her heart splitting, and for the first time, hatred seeped into her too. Why didn’t Mama protect him? Why didn’t she protect us?
The siblings walked back to Oscar’s car, heavy with anger, their love for their mother burning into ash.
That day, love turned into resentment.When children are taught to hate their own mother, it isn’t their fault—it’s the failure of those who should have protected them
