Chapter 3

By the time I rushed over to the nursing home, the police had already cordoned the building off.

Mom had jumped from the eighth floor.

She'd clearly been fine in the morning, but she committed suicide as soon as I left.

Martha said she'd left behind a suicide note, on which only a few words were written.

"I'm tired. I can't take this awful illness anymore."

I didn't know how I managed to pick up Mom's death certificate or get her cremated.

It wasn't until Nina returned home that night that I slowly regained my senses.

She was carrying a few containers of homestyle cooking, and she spoke in a much softer tone than a few days ago.

"You like the food this restaurant serves, so I brought some back for you—"

Her words abruptly stuck in her throat.

The living room was a mess, covered mostly in empty beer bottles.

She frowned and asked, "Have you been drinking? Didn't you kick the habit ages ago?"

She set the takeout on the table with furrowed brows, then continued, "Even if you're angry about the Will situation, you shouldn't go back to the bottle. You're already an adult. You should know how to control your emotions—"

With my head lowered, I interrupted hoarsely, "Mom passed away."

Nina's chiding voice died out instantly.

She stood blankly to one side, and it took a long while for her to get any words out.

"What nonsense are you spouting?" she asked at last.

I looked up, my gaze landing on the urn sitting on the cupboard next to her.

"Mom's ashes are right next to you," I told her.

She followed my gaze, and only then did she fall silent.

"She committed suicide," I revealed.

"It's a good thing," Nina blurted, her words chillingly cold. She continued, "Mrs. Sheppard was already in poor health. Between all the chemotherapy and emergency treatments, she must have been suffering greatly. In a way, it was a relief for her."

I took a deep breath. The breath lodged in my chest, causing a spike of sharp pain.

"Before she died, her greatest wish was to see you one last time, but you didn't visit. Would you be saying the same things if it were Will in her place?" I asked.

My words clearly angered Nina, who snapped defensively, "Can you stop bringing Will into everything?"

I said nothing. Instead, I dumped all the cards I found onto the table.

Nina's expression darkened instantly.

"Let's get divorced," I told her.

The air itself seemed to still for a second.

Then, Nina regained her composure.

She returned to her room, but before closing the door, she glanced at me and asked, "Have you forgotten what I do for a living? I'll pretend you never said that."

My heart twinged as the door closed.

Gazing at the wedding photo on the wall, I wondered how Nina and I had ended up this way.

…

Three days later, I interred Mom's ashes.

Nina didn't come because, according to her, she was busy with work.

I was used to it.

However, as we were preparing for the funeral procession, Nina showed up with Will in tow.

Will practically rushed toward me as soon as he saw me.

Before I could react, his fist struck me in the temple.

"Were you the one who reported my restaurant?" he yelled.

Half of my face throbbed. Some of the relatives who'd come to offer condolences were desperately trying to restrain Will, while others were criticizing Nina.

"Nina, this is your mother-in-law's funeral. How could you bring someone along to cause a scene?"

Nina stood coldly to the side and waited until Will had calmed down to reply, "Will's breakfast shop was ordered to suspend operations for rectification. You were the one who reported him, weren't you?"

I laughed angrily at her words, suddenly finding our ten-year relationship completely absurd.

She'd actually brought Will to Mom's funeral to make a scene without a single shred of evidence.

I smiled wryly and asked, "Nina, Mom treated you well in life, didn't she? Your parents passed away when you were at a young age, but Mom treated you as she would her own daughter. You didn't visit her when she was still alive. Will you not let her rest in peace, either?"

Nina's lips moved, but then her gaze landed on Mom's memorial portrait.

In the end, she said nothing.