Hazel's POV

The moment I heard his words, a coldness spread through my chest. It crept into my limbs, like thousands of tiny ants biting their way through my bones.

My body trembled as I turned around. Ignoring the burning stares behind me, I stood in front of the half-open bedroom door and began taking off my clothes, one piece at a time.

“Ew! So ugly! Just like a dead rat!” Finn shouted.

Colette’s disgusted voice followed immediately. “Everything she takes off is filthy. Gross. Don’t let it dirty the floor. Hurry and sweep that trash out.”

Obedient as ever, Colin grabbed the broom he had never touched before and swept my two bras across the floor as though they were garbage.

Seeing me still standing there, Agnes’s sharp gaze landed on me. “Aren’t you leaving? What are you dawdling for? Don’t tell me you’re waiting to pick up whatever Colin sweeps out. Try it, I’ll call the police and have you arrested, you old thief.”

I shot her one fierce look, picked up my blue cloth bundle, and started toward the door.

But Colin stopped me, saying, “Wait. I haven’t checked that bundle yet.”

Then he snatched it from my arms and shook everything out onto the floor. Something glass hit the ground with a crisp shatter.

Hearing that, I dropped to my knees, reaching for the small two-inch photo frame I touched every day.

“Sweetheart, check that frame. Maybe she’s hiding something inside,” Colette said lazily.

With her command, Colin grabbed the frame right out of my hands.

With a sharp snap, the only photo I had left of my husband split clean in two.

“You beast! That was your father’s last picture. How dare you?!” I screamed.

But Colin ignored my anger and threw the broken frame onto the floor. “He’s dead. What’s there to treasure? For all I know, you’re hiding stolen things behind it.”

Hearing him insult my dead husband, rage exploded inside me, and I raised my hand to slap him.

But he managed to step back, shouting, “You thief! You dare hit me? If you weren’t my mom, I would’ve had you thrown in jail already!”

He kept ranting, his breath hot with anger. “Early in the morning and you start drama. Now I’m going to be late for work. What else do you want? Old as you are, you still can’t fix your nasty habits. Always causing trouble. If I hadn’t pitied you, you’d still be starving in that broken-down mountain village.”

But the truth was far from what he claimed.

He had needed money to buy a home in the city, to start his life. And for his future, I gritted my teeth and sold the three-story house his father and I worked our whole lives to build.

When Finn was born, Agnes didn’t want to take care of him. She talked big about paying for a nanny, but after two months she gave up. So, I volunteered to be their free, full-time caretaker.

If I hadn’t given him money and worked myself like an ox, would he be living this comfortably today?

But now he saw himself as the one who “saved” me.

The more I thought, the angrier I became. My raised hand finally came down hard.

But after that, a sharp pain shot through my back, and I cried out.

Colin glared at me with fury. “You miserable old hag, you actually hit me? You’ve completely lost your mind. Go, then! And don’t come crawling back later! Even if you kneel and beg me, I won’t let you step into my house again.”

When he finished, he spat a thick glob of phlegm onto me, and Finn peed warm urine all over me.

Seeing my humiliation, the whole family looked satisfied as they slammed the door shut.

Through the wood of the door, I heard Agnes’s fake, syrupy voice saying, “Colin, wasn’t that a bit much? You young people should be more patient. Maybe you should coax her. It was just one egg. Just let it go.”

Colin snapped back angrily, “Don’t bother with her. If she had even half your kindness, she wouldn’t embarrass us like this. Just wait, she’ll come crawling back before the day’s over.”

Hazel's POV

Hearing the pride in Colin’s voice made my heart clench hard, as if someone twisted it with their bare hands. The pain pulsed again and again.

I wiped the dirt from my face and pulled the tiny shards of glass embedded in my palm.

Just then, my old flip phone rang. When I saw the caller ID, I limped toward the elevator and headed downstairs.

“Hello, are you Ms. Hazel Reynolds?”

The driver waiting for me quickly opened the car door, gently taking the blue cloth bundle from my arms and placing it in the back seat.

“Miss, you’re hurt? Don’t move. I’ll bandage it for you.”

Since my husband passed away, no one had cared about my cuts or bruises.

Just last month, when Agnes wanted sturgeon for dinner, I injured my hand killing the fish.

While I searched for a bandage, she mocked me. “Isn’t it normal for a country woman to get a few cuts on her hands? What, a few days of city life made you delicate?”

Colin rummaged around impatiently. “She’s right. It’s just a scratch. No need for a bandage.”

But even when I pressed hard with toilet paper, the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. Thick drops hit the floor, staining the tiles I had just scrubbed to a shine.

Colette, fresh manicure and all, tossed the sturgeon into the trash with disgust. “It’s covered in your filthy blood. Totally inedible now. Sweetheart, Mom, there’s a new restaurant nearby. Let’s go. Let her scrub the floors clean. If she doesn’t, I’m throwing these boards out.”

Just like that, the three of them strutted out, leaving me alone pressing on the wound.

It took me half an hour for the bleeding to stop. Once I wrapped my hand in cloth, I crouched on the floor and cleaned the stains with cold water.

My vision blurred with tears, real tears I hadn’t shed in so long. As I sat on the leather seat of the car now, the driver handed me a tissue.

“Miss, here.”

I panicked and began scrubbing at the seat. “I’m so sorry. I dirtied your car. I’ll wipe it clean.”

He frowned slightly, gently taking the tissue and wiping my tears instead. “This is for your eyes.”

I thanked him softly.

Then the car began moving, streetlights and unfamiliar buildings flashing past outside the window.

Then, slowly, familiar scenery appeared.

“Miss, we’re almost there. If the air feels stuffy, I can roll down the window.”

A cool, damp breeze rushed in, stirring memories I had buried deep.

The house back in my hometown had been sold, so Colin was sure I had nowhere left to go. That was why he pushed me out so confidently, certain I’d come crawling back.

But he didn’t know that compared to that empty old house, this row of white buildings, now coming into view, was my real home.

The moment I stepped out of the car, familiar faces hurried toward me. They grabbed my hands, one after another, their warmth pouring into my heart. The wounds left by my son and his family suddenly felt a little less cold.

Just as I was about to greet them, my phone rang again. I checked the caller ID and saw it was my son.

I looked at the warm faces in front of me and then remembered his twisted expression as he drove me out with hateful words.

Without thinking twice, I hurled my heavy old phone into the green pond.

What now? Not even a day has passed, and he already wants me crawling back?

That hellhole, I would never step into it again.