[It's obvious that her resentment still lingers, and a more scientific part of her had once been briefly curious to know what might have become of other iterations of herself, left behind worlds away, but in the end—]

What does it matter now? I have been here, in this world, for well over a year now... And you left me long before that.

[Why should she care about his side, she wonders, after all he had done and everything that had happened?]

Yet you call me Mother... It really is incomprehensible to me... when you are no son of mine...