Dead Wife, Lost Dog, and Her Return

The woman standing before me wasn't wearing the inexpensive T-shirts we used to buy from street vendors. Her eyes weren't the same sunken ones I once knew from when we were pulling all-nighters to start a business.

She was wearing a black couture suit that was made just for her, and on her wrist was a watch that sparkled with such commanding brilliance. It was something I could never afford even if I worked three jobs for a lifetime.

Her hair was neatly combed too. The naivety and destitution that once characterized her eyes had vanished. They had been replaced by a sense of dignity and arrogance that was recognizable only to those seated on top of the food chain.

Even so, I knew she was Casey Hill, my "dead" wife.

At that moment, my breathing stopped. It felt as if all the blood had been drained from my body.

"C-Casey?" I asked tremblingly, my voice hoarse.

Accompanied by the pouring rain, my tears fell on Pudding's blood-soaked fur.

Hearing my voice, she cast a lazy glance in my direction.

The moment she had a good look at my face, I saw her pupils contract sharply.

She abruptly stopped in her tracks before reaching the girl she called Jenna, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.

Ignoring the mud on the ground and the dying Pudding in my arms, I staggered to my feet and rushed toward her.

"Casey! You're alive? It's been five years. Where—"

"Mom! Mom!" Jenna, the obnoxious girl who had kicked me in the head, sobbed.

Looking as if she had encountered the greatest villain in the world, she threw herself into Casey's arms and clung to her leg.

She pointed at me and continued, "That crazy man hit me! He shoved me for that filthy little beast! Mom, you have to avenge me! Lock him up!"

My steps faltered when I heard the word "Mom". It felt as if I had been hit by an eight-ton truck.

My head was already spinning from the earlier blow, but that moment intensified it even further.

Not only did Casey fake her death for five years, but she also had a daughter.

Before I could reel in from the shock, I heard the quick sound of leather shoes hitting the ground.

"Jenna! My baby, why are you covered in mud?"

A man wearing a tailored shirt and sporting slicked-back hair hurried over, holding a black umbrella.

He wrapped his arms around the girl gently, then lifted his head and shot me a deadly glare.

When he saw me, a flicker of guilt and panic flashed across his eyes.

He turned to look at Casey, his brows furrowed and his face filled with anguish. He looked as if he was holding something back, despite feeling deeply aggrieved.

"Casey, aren't you seeing this? The child you raised is being bullied. And who is this lunatic? He looks like a beggar, and he's holding a dead dog. How disgusting!"

Casey gave me a profound look.

Shock and a fleeting hint of agony were written in her eyes. But she ultimately masked them all beneath a facade of indifference.

She reached out, gently patting the man's shoulder in comfort. Then, she shot me a cold look, her lips parting slightly as if she had something to say.

When she finally spoke, her words stung worse than the winter cold.

"Sir, it's my daughter's fault for hurting your dog. But you pushing her is too much. I'll compensate you ten times the cost of the dog's medical bill, but you have to apologize to my daughter."