My Mother Died At My Wedding

The moment I lashed out, Eason's briefly softened demeanor turned into an explosive fury.

He stormed over, yanked the suitcase from my grip, and flung it across the room.

Clothes scattered everywhere.

As he stomped forward, his leather shoes crushed the meat pies on the floor. I gritted my teeth, staring at the mess beneath his feet.

"Yara, my patience is wearing thin. Stop dragging innocent people into our problems!" he spat.

My hands trembled as I stood there, frozen.

Cindy, with tears welling up, gazed at me innocently.

"I'm sorry, Yara. I just wanted to check the tickets and pick you up at the airport, but I didn't expect..."

Tears spilled from her eyes, mixing with the bits of crushed meat pies on the floor.

"I was only trying to help. The Garcia family has a lot at stake. There are too many cases of people using children to trap and marry into wealth. I..."

She looked at Eason, bit her lip, and shook her head, playing the victim perfectly.

My eyes grew colder, my voice devoid of warmth.

"Eason, do you think I'm lying?"

He didn't answer, but his expression said everything.

The medical records were real.

I had accompanied my mother for the check-up six months ago.

So Cindy she focused on the plane ticket.

My mother didn't take a plane.

Airfare was too costly.

To save money for my dowry, she endured a grueling 30-hour train ride in a hard seat.

It was just to attend a wedding that didn't exist.

Yet Eason couldn't even be bothered to play his part.

In hindsight, he had never truly reciprocated my feelings. Our ending was inevitable from the moment we met.

I deluded myself into believing he loved me, searching for signs in every moment we shared.

Everything was fine for five years.

But Cindy's arrival shattered that fragile balance.

Eason started feeling real emotions—joy, anger, sorrow—and he learned to love.

He would consult me when Cindy had a stomachache.

He'd stock allergy medicine in the car for her.

He paraded Cindy at every event of the Garcia Group, introducing her as his perfect work partner.

In comparison, I felt like a rat, undeserving and discarded.

Even when I laid down my pride, allowing him to trample over my dignity, I couldn't secure a place in this battle for his heart.

I no longer wanted what I could never have.

Cindy's face swelled from where I had hit her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eason, seething with rage, cursed as he tended to her, applying ointment with practiced ease.

After soothing Cindy, he turned to me, his tone threatening.

"Yara, stop being so shameless. Cindy did nothing wrong. When she woke up in the hospital yesterday, the first thing she did was urge me to find you at the wedding."

"Look at yourself now—a jealous wreck! How can you even compare to her kindness?"

"Yara, this is your last chance—apologize to her!"

"If you cause more trouble, get out of here!"

I ignored him, focused on gathering my scattered belongings.

As time ticked by, Eason's patience wore thin.

He strode over, grabbed my hair, and yanked my head back. His face twisted with rage.

Pain shot through my scalp as I gritted my teeth, refusing to scream. My eyes, bloodshot, locked onto his.

"Didn't you hear me? Or have you forgotten how to apologize? I've spoiled you too much, Yara!"

"Want your mom's meat pies so bad? How do they taste now?"

He shoved my head toward the floor, rubbing my face into the mess. I bit down hard, but he forced my head against the ground, smearing my lips and cheeks with the mess and tears.

His dissatisfaction festered. He yanked me upright, slapping me hard across the face.

A metallic taste filled my mouth as blood blurred my vision.

"Why don't you speak? Show me how tough you are! Come on, open your mouth!"

He picked up a somewhat intact meat pie, crushing it into my face.

"Is it tasty? Do you like it? Apologize to Cindy now!"

"Or I'll make sure your mother gets sent back to where she came from!"