But now, I had far too much on my mind to waste more emotions on Mark. I glanced at the time, grabbed my things and headed to the mall to buy a new suitcase. After wandering around a bit, I picked out a pink one—the color Mom had always loved.
I suddenly heard a familiar voice while dragging the suitcase to prepare for the crematorium.
"Mark, my foot hurts so much…"
I looked up and saw Mark, with Chloe in his arms. He was gently rubbing her nose before lifting her up effortlessly, all under the curious gazes of bystanders.
I froze in place and suddenly, a memory hit me—the day I begged Mark to go with me to the hospital. Back then, he had been impatient just because of a single word of urgency, shoving me out of the car when I was still pleading. I had fallen, bloodied and in pain. I was unable to get up and wanted him to help me.
"You're not young anymore," he had said coldly, watching me struggle. "Stop pretending. No matter how pathetic you look, I'm not giving you a single penny."
"Chloe is waiting for me," he continued. "When you learn to be as well-behaved and understanding as her, you can ask me for things."