My Husband’s Woman Killed My Mom

I clenched the numbered slip in my hand, letting the sharp edge scrape my palm.

The faint sting gnawed at me like swarming ants.

“Nothing, just passing by.”

Hank seemed satisfied with my tact, his tone softening.

“Alright, wait for me. I’ll bring back your favorite crispy pork.”

I stood still, watching until the two figures vanished before I turned and walked into the hall.

The paperwork was quickly finished, and two green divorce certificates were handed to me.

The staff asked casually, “Did something happen with your husband? Why hasn’t he come to collect these?”

“He’s with his mistress, taking photos for their marriage certificate.”

My eyes drifted across the hall, where Lily was clinging to Hank, demanding retakes of their picture.

The two sat against a red backdrop, the image of a blissful couple.

And I was the one who didn’t belong.

After years of staking everything on Hank, I was left empty-handed.

I returned home, placed the divorce papers and my child’s ashes neatly on the dining table.

The room brimmed with memories.

From kindergarten snapshots to graduation photos, our lives have always been side by side.

I thought quietly: I’ll give Hank one last chance—to talk face-to-face.

But when the food had been reheated for the third time, my phone rang.

“Alex, something urgent came up at the hospital. I can’t come home tonight.”

On the screen, his chat box kept flashing: “Typing in progress.”

“I ordered the crispy pork I promised. It’ll be delivered. Don’t wait up—sleep early. I’ll make it up to you someday.”

I had grown numb to excuses. Calmly, I switched to Lily’s alternate account.

Her latest post appeared.

“The baby’s fussy, but with Daddy around, everything’s fine~”

The photo showed their intertwined hands.

I stared for a long moment, then dumped the untouched food into the trash.

When the driver dropped off the takeout, he apologized as he handed me a flattened box.

After he left, I sat alone, opening the crushed pork.

The soggy, misshapen meat steamed weakly.

I took a bite; it tasted bitter, tinged with salt.

Only when my cheeks were wet did I realize I was crying.

Hank, loving you hurts too much. I have no choice but to let go.

The next day, I gathered everything that belonged to me and tossed it into the trash. Only one small suitcase remained.

My mother’s ashes were still at the hospital—I wanted to take her with me.

When I was small, her warm palm always rested on my head. Later, she seemed to shrink.

Until I could see the crown of her head. Until she became nothing but a light, floating jar.

I tucked the jar into my bag and went to one of her favorite restaurants.

Unexpectedly, I ran into Hank and Lily there.

Both dressed formally, they looked slightly nervous.

The moment our eyes met, Hank frowned and whispered, “Alex, why are you here?”

He lowered his voice sharply. “Your little scenes are fine, but today’s important—I’m meeting investors. Don’t be so ignorant!”

Lily added sweetly, “Sister, it’s fine if you control Hank at home, but following us here? Do you not care about his career?”

Their barbs reminded me. Today was indeed the meeting.

Because I never wanted to reveal myself as an investor, I always sent my assistant in my place.

Watching their expressions, I suddenly lost the urge to keep silent. “I recommended this restaurant to you. Why can’t I come?”

I walked over, sat opposite them, and unzipped my bag slightly.

Lily recoiled. “Why are you carrying an urn?”

Hank’s face darkened, and just as he was about to speak, his assistant arrived.

He looked at me strangely. “What’s going on here?”

Before I could answer, Lily cut in impatiently. “She forced herself to sit with us, but she’s carrying ashes. I was just about to tell her to leave—bad luck, you know.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed Hank’s eyes, but his voice quickly cooled.

“She’s right. We don’t know her.”