Her room stayed open nearly all day, the headlines growing more suggestive each time, the viewer count rising fast.
I never clicked in, but people kept “accidentally” sending me screen captures.
The latest picture showed Zion setting off fireworks in Maeve’s stream.
He lit them for a whole hour and a half just to celebrate her getting first place in a PK match.
I curved my mouth slightly and blocked the person who sent it, lowering my head again to sort the plans for my mother’s death anniversary.
Everyone kept talking about how Maeve was the woman Zion kept beside him the longest.
I guess whether she might one day take my place.
But no one noticed that I no longer wished to fight anyone for this “Mrs. Payne” role.
On my mother’s death anniversary, I dressed in all black, a white flower fastened to my chest, standing in the middle of the living room.
The guests all wore serious looks, lowering their voices while speaking. After giving their sympathy, they nodded at me one after another.
Everything should have ended calmly and with respect.
Until just as I was telling the staff to guide the guests to their seats, a purposely softened but still pointed voice came from outside the doorway.