I returned to my village not out of desire, but because of my mother’s plea. Ma had begged, “Let’s go back, just once, before I leave this world.”
“Anything for you, Ma,” I whispered, my voice trembling with love, sadness, and resignation.
It had been two long decades, and as we stood by the riverbank, the weight of the memories wrapped tightly around us.
Nothing had changed.
The night sky shimmered like a bride in a flowing gown. Lanterns flickered into the air, carried by a zephyr. The heavens seemed to listen to the vows made on earth. Krathongs—small rafts made of leaves and candles—floated on the glistening river below, like lost memories set free to drift away.
It was Loy Krathong, a festival of peace, a night for wishes to soar on the wind, yet beneath the festivities lay a bitter ache of the past.
Ma took a lantern carefully, her hands worn and shaking from years of grief. She cradled it close to her chest, and with a choked sob, she whispered, “This is for you, my dear Anong.” Tears blurred her eyes as she released the lantern.
My chest tightened at the mention of Anong’s name. The anger and hatred buried years ago surged up, raw and bitter.
How could the hurt remain so raw? Do you still mourn her? I am your daughter and will willingly give up my life…everything and anything for you, Ma!
Ma almost collapsed. I held her and reached for the antidepressant in her bag. “Here, take this, you’ll feel better,” I urged, as I gently led Ma to a bench. I watched Ma swallow the pill and become the dull, lifeless person she always was. The medicine sapped the vitality from her and made her dependent on me. I hated to see Ma like this, but there was no other way.
As we sat on the bench and watched the lanterns float upwards, the memories came rushing back -the image of Anong-once my best friend who gave me, an orphan, a home. Anong had everything—a beautiful home, a loving mother—everything I had wanted for myself. When she was with Ma, I hemmed with jealousy. Envy stitched itself into every thread of my soul, and I had the twisted, burning desire to replace her. I did what I had to do. I strangled Anong, used a pillow to end her life, put many lanterns around Anong’s room and then set it on fire on the night of Loy Krathong, when Ma was by the river, to make it look like a freak accident. I had taken everything from Anong, and in return, I had become the daughter Ma needed. Ma’s love was now mine to keep, and Anong was just a memory.
Anything for you, Ma.
As the night air held its breath, I heard a shrill voice that could not be ignored. “Tien… you shouldn’t have returned.”
