Khawla‘s house

"It was the first time her firstborn had seemed fragile, tiny, and about to cry. Wasn‘t he telling the truth this time? The fact that she loved him "in her own perverted spy way" and not as he needed? But what good were those endless lists of treacherous facts? The fact that he was the first guinea pig in her empty motherhood laboratory, that her wound was becoming invisible compared to his, that her "human condition" was collapsing under the conditions of her motherhood, that she "knew what she was capable of and what she wasn‘t," that she couldn‘t destroy everything she had worked so hard to build: every white hair on her head, every wrinkle under her eyes, every extreme idea, every perverted metaphor, every ruin in the heart, for his sake, and the fact that love was conditional, conditional, that they had lied about it, that the world was unfair, that misunderstanding was inevitable and seemingly eternal, and she didn‘t know where it would end." Her role as a mother, and where does her condition as a woman begin? And what can she do about the brutal conflict between the two, in that she wants to take him back under her wing like a wet chick, and in that she has never forgiven him for being "a son of his freakish place in his freakish time"?