Chapter 3 What Is That Sound Are You Crying

Mira Ashford's POV

I picked up my bag from the floor, my hand trembling slightly. I didn't give myself a chance to hear another word from him. I opened my bedroom door, my heart pounding violently as if it might burst. I swallowed hard, my phone in my hand. I looked straight ahead, my chest rising and falling fast. And there... I saw Carlos standing there, trying to calm Jessica, who was crying and begging him in broken sobs.

When they noticed me, both turned around. I felt their gazes pierce through me, but I kept my eyes fixed forward, pretending I didn't see them. I kept walking to the stairs without a word-only the sound of my hurried steps spoke of the fire burning inside me.

None of them cared. Of course not. Who among them noticed that I drown every night in my thoughts? Who saw that I always pretend to survive? At that moment, I wished I could leave my thoughts behind, just as I was leaving this place.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, still breathing heavily, a heavy weight pressing on my chest. I approached the front door, my hand touching the latch hesitantly, my heart screaming inside me: "Do it... don't go back. You won't be able to take it anymore."

Then... everything stopped.

My father's voice-no, Ashford's voice-rose angrily, echoing through the house, ordering me to stop:

"If you walk out this door now, you'll dream of coming back here again. But you won't be my daughter after that."

His words hit me like a slap. I froze but didn't turn back. Then came Carlos's voice, full of mockery and disdain:

"By your own father, let her go. She has nowhere else to go. She'll end up with that effeminate bastard who always comes to pick her up. We all know she'll be back here by midnight."

I slowly raised my head, meeting Carlos's cold, mocking gaze as he stood on the stairs. His eyes were full of contempt. Next to him was Jessica, her eyes swollen from crying, trying to hold back a trembling lip, furrowing her brow with a look mixed with pity and confusion. Lucas stood silently, shaking his head as if to say, "Don't go."

I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and turned my gaze away. I stepped closer to Ashford and stood in front of him, looking straight into his angry eyes. I had no intention of coming back here-not now, not ever.

I stared at them one by one. I wanted to carve their faces into my memory, just to remind myself why I left. Even if I knew I would die out there, I wouldn't return. Enough. I have been humiliated and mocked for too long. If they expect me to come back before midnight, they are deluded. I will manage, as I have done all these years.

My voice rose, though tight and choked, tears threatening to break free again. I spoke firmly, never taking my eyes off Ashford:

"Believe me, I'd rather die than come back here again. I won't even think of passing by this house anymore. And it doesn't matter if you call me your daughter or not. I never felt like your daughter anyway. And know this-my mother is not pleased with what you've done to me all these years. I never chose what happened."

A suffocating silence.

Ashford answered in a rough, tense voice, trying to control himself:

"Mira, don't make me angry... Go back to your room."

I didn't listen. I gripped my bag tightly as it almost slipped off my shoulder and rushed toward the door. A tear burned in my eye, silently falling down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away with my shaking hand, opened the door, and stepped out. I shut it behind me fast as Carlos's angry voice pierced my ears, ordering me to stop.

I gasped, holding back the sobs, then let my tears flow freely, releasing years of pent-up pain from my lashes. I hurried away from the house, my hand deep in my coat pocket, gripping my bag steadily, while the other hand pulled my phone from my pants pocket.

I swallowed hard. Something stuck in my throat-a tightness like a lump. I put the house key in the other pocket, placed my hat on my trembling head, and started walking through the streets of Mexico City-the city that never sleeps-carrying all this night inside me.

I sighed deeply. My voice was silent, but it pierced me. I kept walking without direction until my feet led me to a park I knew. I sat on a bench, took out my phone again with a trembling hand, gasped softly as I wiped my tears once more. I looked at the name on the screen... and with shaking fingers, I called. I put the phone to my ear, my heart pounding hard, waiting for an answer like a lifeline.

When he answered, I whispered amid broken sobs:

"Max..."

His voice came scared, trembling with worry:

"Mira? What happened? What's that sound? Are you crying?"

I answered with a choked voice, barely audible:

"I... I left the house, Max. I couldn't stay there... I had no one else to call..."

He was silent for a few seconds, then quickly asked in a worried tone:

"What are you saying? Where are you? Tell me, I'll be there right away, come on!"

I told him I was sitting on a bench in a park, named it and told him where. He seemed to know it. He told me he'd come soon. I hung up, sitting silently. My sobs calmed a little, but my breath was still uneven. I stared into the empty space, no expression, nothing inside me seemed normal.

I looked at the older women with their children running and laughing. The sun had set a while ago, and the night was spreading its darkness, but the park lights were enough to see faces and hear sounds. Children played, their mothers calling out, "Don't dirty your clothes!" Their laughter hit me like a slap.

My pain grew... because I never had that when I was little.

No one took me out then. My father worked all the time, and Carlos took Lucas and Jessica to those places and left me behind. I was the youngest, a child... left alone at home with a temporary nanny. She cared for us a little, cooked for us, then left. And I... stayed alone.

I remember well how the nanny would close the door behind her when it was time to leave, leaving me alone, not looking back. They were all outside, having fun, while I waited inside, no one cared. When they returned, no one noticed I was gone, as if I didn't exist. I was small, and my father was the one who drove us to school. If I was late even once, they threatened to leave me at the school gate... Oh God, my heart aches. They don't know mercy.

But I... am not like them.

I remember the day Carlos got sick. He had to be taken to the hospital. Everyone went-except me. I don't forget that night, how I cried in my room, scared something would happen to him. I didn't calm down until the next day when I heard the nanny say they'd be back, and she started tidying the house. I sneaked into his room at night, after everyone was asleep... I only rested when I saw him sleeping, safe.

But it's not the same when I'm the one who's sick.

I don't mean by these thoughts that I hate them, especially my father... No, no. No matter what happened, they are my family. It's enough for me that they're okay. My heart cannot hate them, no matter what they do. Whenever thoughts come that wish them harm, I cry all night, afraid those thoughts might come true.

I understand... I understand it's hard for them to grow up without a mother, but it was harder for me. The only thing I hate... is them accusing me of being the reason she died. That's all.

But it's okay...

I hope they stay well, even without me. I wish them well and hope no harm comes to them. I don't know if I'll hear from them again, but... it doesn't matter.

Maybe that's better for them, because my presence only hurts them... it seems so.