Sway With The Wind [Complete]

Chapter 8 - Longing: The Search Begins

As El approached Mrs. Shaw's door, she took a deep breath, steadying herself. She hesitated briefly before giving a soft knock and stepping inside.

"Mrs. Shaw?" El called softly, her eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. The golden glow of the morning filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows on the worn furniture. The faint creak of an old rocking chair in the corner was the only sound in the otherwise still room.

Mrs. Shaw lay on the bed, cocooned in her blankets. In her trembling hands, she clutched a faded portrait, its colours dulled by time. The lines on her face were deep, etched by years of memories and sorrows. El could see the glistening tears in her eyes.

"Mrs. Shaw, it's me, El," she said gently, stepping closer.

Mrs. Shaw blinked, her eyes narrowing in an attempt to focus. Slowly, recognition flickered in her tired gaze. "El..." she whispered, but then something shifted in her expression—something deeper, more intense.

"Natasha? Is that you?" Mrs. Shaw's voice wavered with emotion, her hand reaching out toward El, who stood frozen for a moment, caught off guard by the name.

El swallowed hard, understanding immediately that Mrs. Shaw had mistaken her for someone else—her daughter. The weight of the situation pressed down on her chest, but she couldn't bring herself to correct the elderly woman, not when the look on her face was so full of longing and hope.

El moved closer, taking Mrs. Shaw's outstretched hand gently in her own. "I'm here," she said softly, sidestepping the truth. The warmth of Mrs. Shaw's frail hand felt delicate but comforting.

Mrs. Shaw's face lit up with a joy that was almost childlike. "I've missed you so much, Natasha," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I knew you'd come back."

El's heart clenched painfully. She didn't know much about Mrs. Shaw's daughter, but from the way the old woman spoke, it was clear the relationship had been a complicated and painful one. Mrs. Shaw's hand tightened around hers, and El sat down on the edge of the bed, allowing the moment to unfold.

"I'm so sorry for everything," Mrs. Shaw whispered, her voice barely audible. "I never meant to hurt you."

El, throat tight, could only nod, offering a soft, "It's okay," even though she felt like an imposter in this deeply personal conversation. She could feel Mrs. Shaw's love and regret pouring out, years of heartache condensed into these fragile moments. El wished she could do more—be more—but she remained silent, allowing the older woman the space to speak.

A tear slipped down Mrs. Shaw's cheek, and El brushed it away gently. "I never stopped loving you, you know," Mrs. Shaw said. "Even when you left... even when I didn't hear from you."

El squeezed her hand, feeling the intensity of the emotions in the room. Mrs. Shaw's pain was palpable, and El felt a surge of guilt for letting her continue to believe she was her daughter. But at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to shatter the fragile hope in the older woman's eyes.

"I've been carrying this for so long," Mrs. Shaw continued, her voice breaking. "The guilt... I just wish we could have fixed things before it was too late."

"You did your best," El whispered, unsure of what else to say. She wasn't Natasha, but somehow, it felt like Mrs. Shaw needed to hear these words—to release the burden of regret she'd been holding on to for so long.

Mrs. Shaw's sobs subsided after a few moments, her breathing evening out. She leaned back against the pillows, her hand still tightly gripping El's. "You know," she said after a long pause, "I kept something of yours. I wanted to return it to you."