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

Chapter 30

Others also stood up and left.

"Zoey, we're heading out now."

Someone muttered under their breath, but their words reached my ears clearly.

"Does she even have the nerve to go against Sara? Doesn't she know she's the one who stole someone else's man?"

"Jealous, obviously! Sara's beautiful and accomplished. What does she have?"

"She makes trouble for Sara, and in the end, it's her husband who goes to comfort Sara. How stupid!"

Their mocking laughter faded into the distance, leaving the large private room eerily quiet.

Alone, I let out a faint, bitter chuckle and poured myself another glass of liquor. I drained it in one gulp.

To be honest, Sara wasn't entirely wrong-I hadn't been to those places.

But I knew she was lying.

Because of my mother.

I wasn't born without parents.

My mother was a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières, stationed in war zones.

In those days, for a woman to work abroad while her husband stayed behind to raise their child was unthinkable.

Neighbors would sneer and taunt, saying:

"Your mother doesn't want you anymore!"

I clenched my fists and fought to defend myself, protecting what little pride I had, only to face even harsher ridicule.

Mother frequently sent letters stamped with exotic postmarks, recounting her work and life in detail, often accompanied by photographs.

Whenever my father read her letters to me, I would envision the heroic image of a brilliant doctor.

She once told me:

the real world is vast. You must see it for yourself. Broaden your horizons, and only then will you know what you truly

was five, she died in the line of duty during the Kosovo

hospital managed

to protect, there was a

fully grasp what "killed in action" meant, but I did remember the gloating of those

the limelight never meet a good

then on, I lost my mother,

for yourself. Document and experience

you know what you truly

found that old camera,

seemed to hold some lingering

her relic,

my face in my hands, I let my

I miss you

The next morning.

pounding headache jolted

struggled to open my eyes, recognizing

no recollection of how I

my throat, I noticed Jackson sitting in the living room, his face clouded with

is how you behave as the lady of

turned and walked

the desk was

hoarse as I asked,

Jackson smirked coldly.

it to

My breath caught.

"What did you say?"

arms, a disdainful smile tugging at his

tell her

roar filled

given my mother's

from my hand and shattered.

collar, shouting hysterically:

dare you touch my