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Chapter 7

Author: Washing Wheat
So, in the end, I was the only person left in this world who remembered my father.

At his funeral, I was probably the only mourner.

I did not publish an obituary nor did I not notify distant relatives. I certainly did not tell Raymond that my father had passed away.

There seemed to be no point in that.

For years, my father had existed quietly on the edge of everyone's lives.

Eventually, even his absence became invisible.

I spent several peaceful hours at the funeral home.

There was no crowd, no flowers sent by business associates, and no endless stream of condolences. There was only my father, myself, and the silence that had accompanied us for the past ten years.

It was a simple farewell ceremony.

A final goodbye.

Then, I watched as his body disappeared behind the crematorium doors.

Hours later, I carried his ashes to the cemetery myself.

My mother had been waiting there for ten years, and now they could finally be together again.

After placing his urn beside my mother's grave, I remained where I was, sitting quietly between them and tracing their names with my eyes as they stood side by side in stone.

I did not speak, and I did not cry.

I simply stayed there for a while, letting the silence settle around me.

My phone did not ring until Raymond finally called.

I had no idea what he wanted, but after five or six unanswered calls, he left a voice message demanding that I get home immediately.

I glanced at the message, then rose and left the cemetery.

The drive back was strangely peaceful. My mind was completely blank, and for once, I was not thinking about anything at all.

When the car pulled up outside the villa Raymond and I shared, I immediately spotted Mandy standing by the front door, wringing her hands anxiously.

The moment I stepped out of the car, she hurried over. "Mrs. Lowe, why have you only gotten back now?"

"Is something wrong?" I asked calmly.

"Um... Mrs. Lowe..." Her gaze drifted toward my stomach. "The baby... is the baby okay?"

Without answering, I walked past her toward the house.

Mandy followed closely behind me. "The doctor said you've missed three prenatal appointments, and then... and then..."

Before she could finish, I pushed open the front door. Raymond was waiting in the living room like a furious lion.

The moment he saw me, he charged forward and grabbed me by the throat.

"Annie!" he snarled. "What happened to my child? What did you do to my child?"

Only then did I understand what had happened.

The previous night, I had spent the entire evening at the funeral home with my father and never returned home.

When Raymond came back and realized I was missing, he had finally sensed that something was wrong. He searched everywhere for information about me, but there was very little to find. I had no close friends and no other family members. There was no one he could call.

My phone had been turned off the entire time I was at the funeral home, and no matter how many times he called, he could not reach me.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, he discovered the bloodstained sanitary pads in the bathroom trash can.

After the procedure, I had continued bleeding for days. Raymond had never noticed.

Since that night, we had been sleeping in separate rooms, and he had no reason to enter the bathroom attached to my bedroom.

However, after spending the night waiting for me to come home, he eventually used the bathroom and found the bloodstained pads in the trash.

The discovery immediately alarmed him.

He questioned Mandy about my condition, but she knew nothing about the abortion. I had always disposed of everything myself, so there was little she could tell him.

All Mandy knew was that I had looked unusually weak lately and that, aside from visiting my father, I had spent most of my time in bed.

After hearing that, Raymond became even more suspicious. He searched through our bedroom and eventually found the medication my doctor had prescribed, tucked away inside the bedside drawer.

Taking the medicine with him, he went straight to my obstetrician.

The doctor informed him that I had not attended a prenatal checkup in nearly three weeks.

Then, after examining the medication, the doctor reluctantly explained what it was.

The prescription was for bleeding control and infection prevention, medication commonly given to patients recovering from an abortion.

Raymond completely lost control. His eyes were red as he stared at me, desperate for the truth.

"Annie," he demanded hoarsely, his voice trembling with fury, "What happened to my child? Tell me. What happened to our baby?"

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    So, in the end, I was the only person left in this world who remembered my father.At his funeral, I was probably the only mourner.I did not publish an obituary nor did I not notify distant relatives. I certainly did not tell Raymond that my father had passed away.There seemed to be no point in that.For years, my father had existed quietly on the edge of everyone's lives.Eventually, even his absence became invisible.I spent several peaceful hours at the funeral home.There was no crowd, no flowers sent by business associates, and no endless stream of condolences. There was only my father, myself, and the silence that had accompanied us for the past ten years.It was a simple farewell ceremony.A final goodbye.Then, I watched as his body disappeared behind the crematorium doors.Hours later, I carried his ashes to the cemetery myself.My mother had been waiting there for ten years, and now they could finally be together again.After placing his urn beside my mother's

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