A sharp pain stabbed through Moira's chest. It was irrational, ugly, and immediate.
For a moment, the sight before her stole the air from her lungs.
Her fingers slowly curled into her palms.
Why was Shay looking at Lara like that?
Why Lara?
Moira had spent the past few weeks trying to become the mother she should have been from the beginning, desperate to make up for the years she had been absent. She had endured the tantrums, the sleepless nights, the exhaustion, and all the mundane demands of motherhood that no one praised because they were simply expected of her.
She had been there for Shay.
She had tried.
Yet her daughter had never looked at her the way she was looking at Lara now.
There was such warmth in Shay's eyes. Such complete trust and affection.
Moira felt something twist painfully inside her.
At first, she tried to dismiss it.
Shay was only a child. Children became attached easily. Lara had been kind to her, nothing more.
