I turned, grabbed scissors, and shredded the wedding posters and albums.
Frames smashed, glass cracked, paper torn to bits.
“No!”
“Adrian, I can take those with me!”
Ethan lunged barehanded, and the scissors sliced across his skin.
His sharp cry sobered Claire instantly. She shoved me hard, and I stumbled back, glass shards digging into my palm.
“Adrian Walker, what is wrong with you?”
“Smashing things, hurting people—can you not act like a man for once?”
“Ethan just lost his mother! You lost yours too! Can’t you show him some compassion?”
Her words cut deeper than glass.
My mother’s death was my greatest regret.
Back then, Claire and I were studying overseas. Restrictions kept me from flying home.
I said goodbye to my mom through a screen.
Even now, I wake at night, haunted by the ache of missing her.
And Claire knew this.
Yet she used it against me—just to defend Ethan.
Without a backward glance, she wrapped an arm around him and left.
I stared at the blood seeping from my palm, bitterness rising until it filled my chest.
“Mom, the woman you chose turned out rotten.”
“I don’t want her anymore.”
The silent living room gave me no reply.
My mother had always adored Claire.