She loved cleanliness, disliked extravagance.
Her final resting place was nothing more than a simple white wooden box she had chosen long ago.
As the dawn broke, I wiped my tears and took Mom home.
I packed my bags simply, ready to take her back to our hometown.
Dad had been waiting for her for a long time.
Just as I finished, Martin entered the house, hand-in-hand with Emma, laughing as they walked in.
Martin froze when he saw me with my suitcase.
“Sofia, I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was your wedding yesterday. I just felt so terrible. I wanted to die. It's all my fault, please don't be mad at Martin because of me!"
Emma glanced at Martin before rushing over to me, pressing on my suitcase, humbly apologizing.
As she spoke, she even pretended to kneel.
I didn't stop her, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss, unsure whether to kneel or not.
"Enough! Why do you always have to make a scene? She has already apologized to you. Do you really want her to kneel?"
Martin gently lifted her up and frowned at me.
Seeing him like this made me want to laugh. "Wasn't it me who delivered her life-saving meds yesterday? What if she did kneel? I deserve it..."
Emma's face turned pale.