My Daughter Is Dead, But My Husband Asks Me to Apologize to the Murderer

The son of my husband's first love had been relentlessly humiliating my daughter, spreading rumors everywhere.

Unable to bear the shame, my daughter slit her wrists and took her own life.

I was furious and wanted revenge on the culprit.

But my husband slapped me several times, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head against the wall.

"Are you crazy? How can you be so vicious? Why are you picking a fight with someone so much younger than you?"

"Your daughter is already dead, and now you want to make the living suffer too?"

Yes, I wanted him to suffer.

Why should the murderer get to live peacefully?

***

I had been sick and hospitalized for a week.

But when I returned home, I noticed something wrong with my daughter.

She no longer had her usual lively and cheerful spirit.

She was silent, withdrawn, and I even saw her secretly crying at night.

I asked my husband.

"What happened these days?"

Without lifting his head from his phone, he chuckled at something on the screen.

"Nothing happened. You're overthinking it. She's just acting all mopey, as if the whole world owes her something."

"She's nothing like..."

He paused, suddenly remembering something, and didn't finish his sentence.

That was impossible! My daughter, Nina, had always been such a cheerful child. Something must have happened.

One day, while Nina was at school, I was cleaning her room and found a pair of bloodstained pants under her bed.

My head spun, and a wave of fury rushed through me.

I knew exactly what that meant.

Holding back my surging emotions, I confronted Liam.

"Are you telling me you really don't know what's been happening to Nina these days? You honestly have no idea?"

Liam avoided my gaze and shoved me aside.

"How would I know? It's girl stuff, don't bother me."

His evasive eyes only fueled my suspicion. He definitely knew something, and he was deliberately hiding it from me.