From Love to Hate, Never Again

I remembered when I gave birth to my daughter—it was difficult labor, and Anthony was only two streets away, having dinner with a client.

I thought I was going to die.

Terrified, I called him, begging him to come see me just once.

All I got was his cold reply, “Diana, it’s just childbirth. Every woman has to go through it. Even if I come, I can’t help you give birth. I don’t like doing this kind of pointless, ceremonial stuff."

"You’ll be fine. Be strong. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.”

Upstairs, laughter spilled down the walls—birthday songs, the clinking of glasses.

The sound pierced my chest like needles.

Whenever our daughter wanted Anthony to celebrate her birthday with her, he would push her away with the same cold dismissal.

“I’m busy with work. You’re six years old already. You should be mature enough not to bother adults all the time.”

Love or the absence of it—it was that obvious.

I didn’t know when Anthony came home that night.

All I knew was that when I woke up the next morning, he had already set the table with a full spread of dishes.

“Diana, I made these myself. Come taste them and see if they’re good.”

I glanced at the food and almost laughed aloud. Yes, he had “made” them.

But I’d seen Vanessa’s social media post last night—these were nothing more than their leftover dishes.

“Oh, by the way, Diana,” he said casually, “after I left yesterday, you stayed in the bedroom the whole time, right? You didn’t see anything in the living room?”

Looking at his probing expression, I found it almost amusing.

“No. I was too tired and slept straight through.”

Hearing this, he relaxed, hiding it behind a practiced calm.

“You’ve been holding off on cremating Cherry because you wanted justice for her, so she could rest in peace. But since it was just an accident, it’s time to let her be buried. Let’s set the funeral for tomorrow."

"I’ve already informed the relatives. Mom rushed back. Tonight, we’ll have dinner with the family, and tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the crematorium.”

I didn’t answer. But a heavy bitterness welled in my chest.

Yes—witnesses had been bribed, and even the evidence was destroyed.

Maybe even Cherry wouldn’t want to stay in this filthy world any longer.

The only one to blame was me—blind enough to love the wrong man.

When I entered the private dining room, I froze.

My mother-in-law was cradling a five-year-old boy in her arms, doting on him as if he were the jewel of her heart.

Vanessa was standing nearby, and my mother-in-law pulled her down to sit beside her, chatting and laughing like old friends.

That seat—was supposed to be the daughter-in-law’s seat.

I hadn’t known they even knew each other.

Anthony had never told me.

When Vanessa saw me, her tone dripped with mockery.

“Auntie, didn’t I tell you? Of course Diana would come to an occasion like this. As for what you said earlier—about me standing in as the Jimenez family’s hostess to help Anthony entertain guests—you’d better forget it."

"After all, Diana is still his wife. I wouldn’t want her to get jealous and accuse me of something I didn’t do. I can’t afford that kind of trouble.”

My mother-in-law shot me a contemptuous glance and scoffed, “A useless thing like you—only capable of giving birth to a money-losing girl—what right do you have to be angry? That brat dying was a blessing from the heavens, saving our family money. And yet you made a fuss, falsely accused Vanessa, and even dragged her into court. Aren’t you ashamed?"

"You’re worthless. You even let someone beat you until you can’t have children anymore. With so many people in this neighborhood, why did they target you? Maybe because you don’t behave yourself—probably your own shamelessness brought that trouble home."

"Vanessa is the capable one—her first child was a boy. If it weren’t for that, our family would’ve been in trouble. Anyway, I like Cooper, so I’ve already recognized him as my god-grandson. From now on, Vanessa’s status will be the same as yours.”

My mother-in-law was different from those who cared about social class or family background—she cared about one thing only: whether you could give her a grandson.