Never Die Villain

Anastasiya sat across from her, but the words she had rehearsed countless times suddenly felt like nonsense now that Mariya was actually waiting to hear them.

She stared down at her hands for a while, rubbing her thumb against her palm before finally forcing herself to speak.

"...Do you still love me?"

"What?"

"I know it’s stupid." Anastasiya immediately lowered her head. "Forget I asked."

"Ana."

"I said forget it."

Mariya rose from her chair and walked around the desk.

"Look at me."

Anastasiya reluctantly did.

"Why would you ever ask me something like that?"

There was genuine hurt in Mariya’s voice, enough that Anastasiya immediately regretted bringing it up.

"Because..." Anastasiya swallowed. "I don’t know. It just feels like you don’t really have time for me anymore..."

Mariya stared at her.

Anastasiya hurried to continue before she lost her nerve.

"Whenever I come looking for you, you’re usually busy with Ilya, and whenever I want to tell you something, it always feels like there’s something else happening. I know you’re busy, Mother. I know I’m supposed to be able to handle things myself now, but sometimes I just..."

She struggled to finish.

"...Sometimes I want my mother too."

Silence filled the room.

Mariya slowly sat beside her.

"Oh, Ana."

The tenderness in her voice almost made Anastasiya cry immediately.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I tried."

Anastasiya immediately wished she could take the words back.

"I mean... I didn’t really try. I thought about it, but then I’d see you were busy, so I’d leave."

"No." Mariya shook her head. "You shouldn’t have had to try."

Anastasiya looked at her.

"I should have noticed."

Mariya reached for her daughter’s hands and held them between her own, her expression gradually crumbling beneath the weight of the realization.

"You spent an entire year feeling this way, and your own mother didn’t even notice." Her eyes lowered toward their joined hands. "What kind of mother does that make me?"

"Mother, that’s not what I meant."

"But it’s true."

"No, I just wanted—"

"Attention." Mariya smiled sadly. "You wanted your mother to pay attention to you. That’s hardly an unreasonable thing for a daughter to ask."

Anastasiya’s throat tightened.

This wasn’t how she had imagined the conversation going.

"...I shouldn’t have said anything."

"Why?"

"Because now you’re upset."

Mariya shook her head. "Don’t worry about me."

Those words somehow made it worse.

Mariya gently stroked the back of Anastasiya’s hand with her thumb.

"You’ve always been so considerate of me, Ana. I suppose I became too accustomed to that..."

"...What do you mean?"

"I relied on you."

Anastasiya blinked.

Mariya lowered her eyes.

"Ilya needed so much of my attention, your father became someone I could hardly speak to anymore, and this family..." She stopped herself before shaking her head. "Never mind. None of that is your burden."

"Mother..."

"Whenever everything became difficult, I would look at you and think, At least Ana is alright."

Mariya smiled at her.

"You kept studying. You trained harder than ever. Every time I asked whether you were alright, you smiled and told me you were fine, so I allowed myself to believe you."

Her smile weakened.

"It was selfish of me, wasn’t it?"

"No."

"A little?"

"No, Mother."

Anastasiya squeezed her hands.

"You had a lot going on. I knew that."

"And there you go again."

Mariya laughed softly. "Comforting me when you’re supposed to be angry with me."

"...I’m not angry."

"But you should be."

"...."

Anastasiya couldn’t answer.

Mariya pulled her closer and wrapped both arms around her.

"I’m sorry, Ana."

The apology immediately made Anastasiya’s chest ache.

"I should have noticed sooner. I should have made more time for you, and I certainly shouldn’t have assumed that because you were becoming stronger, you stopped needing me." Mariya stroked her daughter’s hair. "You must have been so lonely."

Anastasiya’s eyes burned.

"...Yes."

"You poor thing."

Anastasiya buried her face against her mother’s shoulder and finally cried, clutching the back of Mariya’s dress with both hands.

All the frustration she had swallowed over the past year came spilling out at once, yet instead of feeling relieved, every sob made her increasingly conscious of how tightly Mariya was holding her.

The conversation had left Anastasiya feeling lighter, and for a while, it did. Her mother loved her, had listened to everything she said, and had even apologized without Anastasiya needing to ask.

Yet when Anastasiya returned to her room that evening, one thought continued bothering her.

Mariya had apologized for neglecting her.

And somehow, Anastasiya was the one who felt guilty about it.

One evening, Anastasiya and Ilya sparred together for the first time in what felt like forever.

Ilya had finally recovered enough to resume training, although it quickly became apparent how much he had fallen behind during his absence.

Anastasiya had continued training relentlessly while he had barely touched a sword, and although Ilya still had better fundamentals, the difference in their physical ability had grown too large for skill alone to overcome.

In the end, Anastasiya won.

It had hardly been a clean victory, however. Ilya had caught her across the shoulder during their final exchange, while Anastasiya’s last strike had sent him stumbling onto the ground, leaving both siblings bruised and aching by the time the spar finally came to an end.

"Oh, my!"

Mariya came running the moment she saw them.

Anastasiya turned toward her mother.

"Mother, I’m—"

But contrary to her expectations, Mariya ran past her.

"Ilya!"

"...."

Anastasiya’s pupils shook.

Mariya dropped beside Ilya and immediately reached for him, one hand supporting his shoulder while the other brushed his hair away from his face.

"Where does it hurt? Let me see."

"I’m fine, Mother."

"You’re bleeding."

"It’s only a cut."

"A cut is still a cut." Mariya frowned as she carefully examined the wound along his arm. "You only recently started training again. Why would you push yourself this hard already?!"

"I wasn’t exactly planning on getting hit..."

"This isn’t something to joke about."

Ilya sighed but allowed Mariya to fuss over him.

Several steps away, Anastasiya remained exactly where she was.

"..."

Her shoulder hurt.

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