Unfortunately, the dead couldn’t make a sound. Monica couldn’t hear the cries of my soul, let alone the grievances deep within me. Her good mood was ruined by my name. With a cold face, she was about to take Eden back.
Four years passed. Any trace of me in the house was completely purged. In their place, there were pictures of Eden.
Monica, ever proud, was willing to dress Eden in childish cartoon pajamas. She was willing to bend down to change his shoes.
She gently massaged Eden’s shoulders and legs. Together, they envisioned the upcoming wedding, just like us back then.
I turned my back, unable to bear to look at the scene before me. My mind couldn’t help but recall the past.
When I first met Monica, she wasn’t the decisive CEO, just a little red-haired girl. She was arrogant and rebellious, a stark contrast to my strict, old-fashioned family.
But she also gave me the care and concern I’d never experienced before. She would take me for bike rides and give me roses.
She would look me in the eye when I failed an exam. Every word she spoke was gentle yet firm.