After I Died, My Husband Went Mad
Everything they once valued vanished.
The villa was sold.
The cars were gone.
The servants left.
Mom and Dad became two old people wandering the streets. Sometimes, they sat by the roadside, begging for money to eat. Sometimes, Mom would hold a broken photo of me and call my name like I was only hiding nearby.
“Naomi,” she would whisper. “Come home. Mom made your favorite cake.”
I watched the ending of everyone who hurt me, but there was no joy in it.
If there is another life, I hope I will be born into a family that wants me from the start. I hope I will be loved without begging for it. I hope no one will make me fight for a place that should have been mine.