Cold Season

"Oh, really? Well, that settles it. I'm definitely coming now."

"Do what you want. Come if you feel like it. I'd actually appreciate your genuine well-wishes, you know? Thanks for looking after my dad all these years."

I hung up, the irony of her words stinging. She actually thought she could get a blessing from someone she would hurt so deeply.

Sheila's wedding day rolled around, and there I was, sitting among the guests, watching her up there on the stage.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she clutched a bouquet and took each step toward Jeff.

It was like a flashback to the days when she and I were the ones in that scene.

The stark difference was the radiant joy on her face as she approached the man she loved today. Six years back, she had approached me with clear reluctance etched on her face.

"After all these years, I've finally married my true love. Jeff, I love you."

Sheila was sobbing uncontrollably, her tears clouding her sight. Jeff rushed to her side, tenderly wiping away the tears.

"Sheila, I love you, too."

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as they shared a blissful kiss.

Sitting next to me, Sheila's mom, Natalie Porter, was also wiping away tears, clearly deeply touched. She had not said a word to me the whole time, nor had she even looked my way.

It was as if she had erased me from her memory, along with all the good times as her once son-in-law. She had forgotten the countless times I had been there for her, rushing her to the hospital, handling every crisis that came her way.

She used to say I was like a son to her, even more so than her own daughter.

The harsh reality hit me that no matter what I did, I could never measure up to her own blood.

I had heard that Sheila planned to whisk her mom away to retire overseas.

I watched them with a detached gaze. They were truly heartless.

As the host was about to invite Natalie to speak, I gently pressed her shoulder and announced, "Mom, just hold on a second. I've got a special gift for Sheila."

All eyes turned to me, puzzled, as I reached under the table and pulled out a framed photo.

I lifted it high for all to see, causing a stir among the crowd. Yes, the photo I held aloft was a memorial portrait of Chloe Lowell.

Sheila's eyes bulged, her body shaking with rage as she confronted me, "Tristan, what's gotten into you, doing this to our daughter's picture?!"

"You…"

Natalie clutched her chest, her face red with fury. She slapped me hard across the face. "What are you trying to pull here? Do you really want to wreck my daughter's wedding? You're so cruel! Chloe didn't do anything to you! How could you..."

The slap left my cheek stinging, but I just gave an icy laugh, holding up the portrait as I made my way to the stage.

"Sheila, your wedding wouldn't be complete without your daughter's blessing, right?

"I brought our daughter here to see your big day. Consider it my special gift to you."

"You're insane! What have you done with my daughter?"

I grabbed the microphone from the host, who was too shocked to move. The TV reporters I had invited were already pointing their cameras at me.

With the mic in hand, I faced the stunned crowd, my voice breaking, "Folks, I'm Sheila's ex-husband. I'm here today to get justice for my little girl, who's no longer with us.

"The bride, Sheila, on the 19th of August, at three in the morning, was so busy making soup for her boyfriend Jeff that she forgot to turn off the gas before she dashed out the door.

"That mistake led to Chloe and me getting gas poisoning. I was lucky to wake up in a haze and managed to carry my unconscious daughter out of there.

"Chloe could've been saved, but Sheila had to play hero for her sniffly boyfriend, Jeff. She blocked the ambulance with her car and wouldn't let it pass."