After the Last Tear: Rising from the Ashes of a Broken Marriage By Cassila K

Chapter 28

When I got home from the hospital, I dug out a few dusty camera bags from the depths of the bookshelf.

They held remnants of a life I had deliberately buried.

The touch of the camera's casing felt unfamiliar, and the batteries had long since drained.

While waiting for the charger to finish, I inserted the memory card into my computer and opened those long-forgotten photos.

The first photo showed me treating a Black woman receiving cholera medication on the street.

The second was of a five-year-old child soldier, so small the rifle towered over him.

The third captured refugees in North Kivu province living under torn, tattered tents...

The smell of smoke and dust seemed to waft through the screen, piercing the present.

My heart clenched as if seized by sharp claws, the ache spreading through me.

Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing pulse. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

If Jackson saw these photos, would he still describe me as "obedient and docile"?

Just as that thought crossed my mind, my phone buzzed twice.

It was a message from Jackson: the restaurant's location.

That's when I remembered tonight was the gathering he'd arranged with his groomsmen and bridesmaids.

many close friends, so these were all his

this wasn't just a casual

Sara had

I arrived at

table, I saw Jackson seated at the head, with Sara

a

amused smile appeared on her lips.

grab a chair and sit

a chair over and sat at the farthest corner from

all unfold with

asking, "Sara, we thought you wouldn't make

if I had to crawl, I'd be here

knowing glances exchanged around the table,

true. You and Jackson do

conversation naturally revolved around

her adventures: fishing for yellowfin tuna in the Mediterranean, trekking the Camino de Santiago in Portugal, and climbing

table listened with rapt

you're a woman! How do you

at me briefly, her

only thinks about cooking, husbands, and kids." Her words hung in

a small glass of white liquor, the burning bitterness numbing my tongue,

remained the center of attention, the life of

night wore on, everyone's

mostly quiet, had

was tender, so soft it

began sharing her recent experiences dealing with