My mom… She lost her attending doctor and died in unbearable pain—fully conscious to the very end!
Tears streamed down my face, falling onto hers, as if trying to bring her some warmth.
I couldn’t stop shaking. Every part of my body hurt.
Through my blurred vision, I thought I saw her gentle hand reaching out to me.
She touched my head softly, tears of love and sorrow glistening in her eyes.
She had always been like this—patient, forgiving, loving.
Every “first” in my life, she was the first to know.
When I first got together with Jericho, she had warned me.
“I just don’t think he loves you that much, Venice. I’m your mom, sweetheart. I want your husband to love you more than you love him, not the other way around.”
That worried look on her face—it’s still burned into my memory.
Back then, I was stubborn. I argued with her without hesitation, blindly diving into my so-called love with Jericho.
Now, I’ve finally paid the price.
No, she paid the price I was supposed to pay.
When the bell outside tolled, I collapsed over my mom’s body, sobbing bitterly.
Three days later, Jericho’s bodyguards finally released me.
I was burning with fever, and after several IV drips, I struggled to lift myself.