A Mother Forsaken, a Marriage Broken

"I'm done, Olivia. We're over."

I sent Olivia Cruz the text without a flicker of emotion, right after boxing up the last of Mom's belongings.

She believed I was sulking. A minute later, she took a screenshot of our chat and posted it online. "Guess some people never outgrow being petty."

Her friends, eager to watch the show, piped up in the comments.

"Like mother, like son. Probably learned it from that hick woman."

"He's just a lapdog. Who told him he mattered?"

"Don't you dare forgive him this time, Olivia. Put him in his place!"

Smiling, Olivia replied, "Of course."

I slammed my fist into the photo frame. As the glass shattered, blood seeped through my knuckles.

I had stood by her for six years, cared for her, and obeyed her every word.

She grew up with money, but I came from an average, modest family. If she wanted a designer bag, I had to work two, sometimes three, jobs and save for months until I could place it in her hands. It was all just to see her smile. My palms blistered and my nails split, but I never complained.

She occupied the biggest place in my heart. When she caught the flu and couldn't find the medicine at home, I dragged myself through my own fever just to bring it to her doorstep.

And yet, she burned through the money I bled for. Worse, she funneled it behind my back, time and again, into the startup of her childhood sweetheart, Brad McCoy.

After hearing what Olivia had offhandedly said, Mom emptied her savings just so she wouldn't feel shortchanged and could have the grand wedding she deserved.

But on the day we were supposed to register our marriage, Olivia answered Brad's call and left us stranded on a deserted road.

I tried to grab her wrist. "We haven't signed the papers yet…"

But she pulled away, slid into her car, and started the engine. "Brad just came back. His startup is struggling, so he needs me. Listen to me… Stay here, and I'll be right back."

My eyes were bloodshot as I screamed, "If you leave, don't bother coming back, Olivia! We're not getting married anymore!"

She looked at me with absolute certainty. "You can never leave me, Tristan."

And with those words, I was nailed to the spot.

Seeing Olivia leave us for another man, anger and shame hit Mom so hard that she collapsed right on the spot, clutching her chest.

No one was around. Panicking, I called Olivia and begged her to come back to save my mom. But she coldly ended the call on me.

"Again? Every time I have to leave for something, your mom pretends to have heart pain. You and your family sure know how to put on a show."

I watched the life drain from Mom's face and held her, screaming and breaking down in despair.

When I first started dating Olivia, Mom emptied her life savings into my hands. She had said, "Tristan, it's been just you and me all this time, and my failing heart has held you back long enough. Let me help you this once."

Now, she lay in my arms, barely breathing. Her face was pale as she whispered, "I still want to see you in a suit on your wedding day…"

But she never got the chance. All that was left of the poor old lady was an urn of ashes.

Mom hated crowds, so I refused a big funeral. Throughout the whole time, friends dropped by with flowers, which I left outside.

I downed bottle after bottle of alcohol while clutching Mom's urn. I broke down in grief in the bedroom. Through the door, I heard sharp, piercing laughter.

"What's with all these white flowers, Olivia? Is he planning to take off to heaven?"

"He's pathetic, just like his mom. Only a loser is capable of doing this."

"Olivia, he's cursing you to an early death with these wreaths. It's just a dare with Brad, isn't it? He's too dramatic…"

I had heard such insults a thousand times, but Olivia had always stayed silent, and she had never once defended me.

She had once sworn that this house was our secret refuge, and no one except us would ever set foot inside. But now, she had broken her promise and brought her whole lot of friends in, including Brad, who stood beside her.

To her, Brad was the first love she could never move on from. Her eyes had been on him ever since he returned.

When I first started my business, I asked Olivia for a loan of a few thousand dollars for an emergency. I wanted to be more than just her shadow and be a man with the ability to protect her, the woman I loved.

But she had shaken her head in disapproval. "You're going to be my husband, and you don't have to do that."

Then, she turned around to drop a staggering six-figure sum on Brad's birthday party.

When I found out about it and was bitter, she said, "It's not what you think. He's like family and won't ever come between us."

But he did. A single phone call from him was enough to summon her away from my side, while I lay in bed, burning with fever through the night. Her excuse was that she was too busy with work, but I knew the truth. It wasn't just about being busy; she just didn't love me anymore.

So, when Mom had a heart attack, she assumed we were faking it.

Now, seeing me hollowed out and shaking, she glared at me in disgust. "What are you scheming this time, Tristan?"

Brad's eyes widened as he staggered back in shock. "Tristan? Even if you've misunderstood me and Olivia, you should at least make some effort to wash up, shouldn't you?"

At that, her friends turned to scan me from head to toe with sharp, mocking looks in their eyes.

I hadn't had proper sleep for days since Mom's passing, so dark circles hung under my eyes like bruises.

"Putting on such a pathetic show just to win her back, huh?"

"Olivia told you she'd be coming over. Did you stage this whole sad, heartbroken act just to get her back?"

"Keep dreaming, lapdog."

But Olivia had no idea I had blocked her days ago, so none of her texts could reach me.

While she drank and laughed with them at the bar, flaunting her life online, I clutched Mom's urn and sobbed like a child.