A.’s mother was a very distant person. Not only from her daughter but also from her husband, parents, relatives. The only thing she seemed to care about were pretty clothes, jewelry, furs, make up kits, and of course reputation. Reputation was everything to her. She wanted to be admired, she wanted to shine, to stand out and absorb everyone’s attention. She was sure she was worth more than being a mere mother hen and a stay at home wife.
She and A. never saw eye to eye. Where her daughter was more relaxed she was tensed, where A. couldn’t care less, her mother was on her toes trying to look the best. It was always quite a wonder, how two such different personalities could be related. Let alone be a mother and a daughter.
It wasn’t any better with A.’s father. An overachiever if you ever so one. Workaholic, alcoholic and occasional gambler. He locked himself in his studies more nights than not, working, drinking, thinking… Barred from his family by a wall he built himself. And he was content with it. As long as A. didn’t get into trouble and he didn’t have to be ashamed of her, she could do whatever she wanted. He simply didn’t care enough. His work was his baby. He devoted himself to it unconditionally.
So the answer to the prompt is: neither of her parents loved A. the most. But that is not where the family ends, right? It does not even end with blood. There are people in this world that care for us gratuitously, not because they are tied to us by etiquette or blood.
A. had lots of people who cared for her and showed her love. She grew up good. She grew up strong. And despite being left alone by her parents, she was never in fact lonely.