Chapter 3

Elson suddenly noticed my flat belly when he looked down at me from above.

"Where's the baby?" His tone turned suspicious. "Why is your stomach flat? Did Mom and Dad hide my child? Huh? Where did you hide them?"

Suddenly growing agitated, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me up from the floor.

As a sharp pain ripped through my scalp, I was forced to tilt my head up to look at him.

"Speak! Did they deliberately avoid me because they knew I was coming back?"

Tears mixed with blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. "Elson… they're really gone… It was a car accident. The doctors couldn't save them..."

Friends and relatives nearby couldn't stay silent any longer.

"She's right, Elson. My condolences."

"It's true that your parents—"

"Shut up!" Elson roared at everyone around him. "Monica Chain, you're really something for managing to rope in so many people just to help you put on this show!" He flung my hair away and brushed his hands off in disgust.

He looked around the solemn and dignified memorial chapel, at Dawson's and Felicia's portraits, at the grieving friends and family who had come to pay their respects.

Suddenly, he laughed so maniacally that tears nearly rolled down his cheeks.

"Well then…" he repeated, but his voice was as cold as ice. When he turned to me, his smile had been replaced by a chilling calm. "If they're really dead," he said slowly, enunciating each word, "then we can finally get divorced."

Time seemed to freeze.

I looked at the man I had once loved deeply, who, while his parents' bodies were still warm, could only think of divorce.

The last thread of affection snapped completely.

Recalling the video Dawson and Felicia had left behind, I leaned against a pillar to steady myself and looked him in the eye.

"Alright. Divorce it is."

Elson seemed momentarily stunned, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so readily. A flicker of confusion flashed in his eyes.

At that moment, Yvie, who had been silently standing by, stepped forward and gently wrapped her arm around his. "Elson," she said softly, "Monica's just playing hard to get to make you feel guilty."

Yvie's words instantly dispelled the hesitation in Elson's face, replacing it with deeper disgust and impatience.

He sneered before grabbing my wrist. "Let's go to the courthouse right now." He dragged me forcefully toward the exit.

"Mr. Springton! Mrs. Springton! You can't do this!" Jeremy hurried forward to block the way, tears streaming down his weathered face.

"Get out of the way!" Elson impatiently shoved Jeremy aside.

I didn't struggle, nor did I say a word.

I simply looked past Elson's shoulder, my gaze drawn one final time to the center of the memorial chapel where Dawson's and Felicia's smiling portraits hung.

"Dawson, Felicia, I'm sorry," I thought.

I walked out of the courthouse with nothing after our divorce, but Elson just left with Yvie, without a single backward glance.

The next day, I stood alone in front of Dawson's and Felicia's graves, my eyes on their photos, as they—my closest family members—were laid to rest, sealed away forever.

No one had my back. With no family or support, I stood there in the pouring rain as an endless, crushing loneliness consumed me.

My phone vibrated then. Out of habit, I looked at it.

Elson had updated his social media—he and Yvie were getting married on a sunny island, smiling radiantly.

"I'm finally with the one I love most. Here's to the rest of our lives."

The photo showed him kneeling on one knee, slipping a sparkling diamond ring onto Yvie's finger.

The timestamp was exactly the same as when Dawson and Felicia were permanently interred.

I stared at the phone screen as the last shred of warmth in my heart was completely drained away.

Elson was so eager to marry Yvie that he couldn't even wait out the 30-day cooling-off period.

As the rain washed over the newly erected tombstones, I knelt in the mud and gave Dawson and Felicia one final bow.