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:

small, but the real world is vast. You must see it for yourself. Broaden your horizons, and only then will

she died in the line of duty during

managed to recover only her

records she had risked her life to protect, there was a

fully grasp what "killed in action" meant, but I

Women who love the limelight never meet a good

mother, but her words stayed

yourself. Document

know what

found that old camera, its weathered

to hold some lingering

was her relic, and

my hands, I let my tears slip through my fingers and

I miss you

The next morning.

headache jolted me

to open my eyes, recognizing the familiar ceiling above-it was

I had no recollection of

noticed

is how you behave as the lady

I turned and walked toward the

desk was

froze, my voice hoarse as I

Jackson smirked coldly.

it to

My breath caught.

"What did you say?"

arms, a disdainful

her to

roar filled my

my mother's relic to

hand and shattered. I lunged

collar, shouting hysterically:

dare you touch my camera?!