My Mother Died At My Wedding

He looked sullen and ignored me, so I stepped past him.

From the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, I carefully retrieved the meat pies my mother had made during her last visit.

I held them gently in my arms.

As I turned to leave, Eason deliberately tripped me.

It made me hit my head on the corner of the table.

He frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why are you treating that junk like it's precious? You should've thrown that garbage out long ago! The refrigerator reeks because of those old meat pies!"

I forced myself up, my hands pressing against the floor where the meat pies scattered.

My vision was blurred by the blood slowly trickling from my wound.

Eason, towering over me with a grim expression, lit a cigarette with a disdainful flick.

"Yara, stop being so pathetic. Do you think groveling on the floor is going to change anything? Just because I helped Cindy yesterday, you're acting like this?

"The wedding was a sham, so why are you flipping out now?

"Can a fake wedding be more important than human life?"

He still thought I was just mad about his absence from the wedding.

It wasn't about the fake ceremony.

It was about never being important to him.

For five years, I had been the lesser one in our relationship.

Perhaps compared to me, Cindy could be a better wife that he was satisfied with.

I was always waiting for him to come home.

All I got was news that he and Cindy were socializing together.

I sent him messages, asking him to drink less.

But all my messages were met with the red exclamation mark of being blocked.

Sometimes, they would stay out so late that they'd book a room in the same hotel. Cindy would unblock me from his phone just to send a message with their room number and a photo of them together.

"Yara, I'll take good care of Mr. Garcia. You should get some rest!"

Cindy did take care of him, and now Eason didn't need me anymore.

I stared coldly at Eason. "You're right—human life is important. But not my mother's, right, Eason?"

His face darkened at my accusation.

As I dragged my suitcase to the door, Eason yelled at me.

"Do you really have to go insane today? Can't I go to the hospital and apologize to your mother? I'll even bring Cindy along if you want! Is that enough? Do you want me to put her hospital IV list in front of your mom?"

His outburst made my chest burn with rage.

In his eyes, my mother and I were just unreasonable nuisances.

Seeing the fire in my eyes, Eason's doubt flickered for a moment as he moved to grab me.

But Cindy held him back.

"Her mother's tickets must be fake; she probably didn't even make it here. It's not that her mother's unhappy. Yara's just mad because you missed the wedding yesterday. Don't worry, I can explain it to her with a hospital certificate."

That was the last straw. A surge of anger consumed me, obliterating my restraint.

I snatched the black bag from the shoe cabinet and hurled it at Cindy's head. Then, with a fierce grip, I slammed her head against the wall.