I didn’t realize I was clenching my fists until I felt the sting. My nails had dug into my palms, deep enough to draw blood.

They got into their car, the three of them. The picture-perfect family.

And I just stood there, watching the taillights disappear, feeling like someone had buried me alive all over again.

My hands were shaking when I pulled out my phone. I pressed Lila’s name. It took me a few tries before the call went through.

When she answered, my voice came out barely a whisper.

“Lila… I need your help.”

“What is it?” Lila’s voice snapped through the line.

For ten years, she was the only one who ever came to see me. The only one who still looked at me without disgust. The only person I could trust.

I took a deep breath. “I want to overturn the verdict. I want to clear my name.”

Silence. I thought she’d hang up. I thought maybe she'd given up on me.

“Emily, I’ve been looking for evidence all this time. I just need seven more days. Seven days, and I’ll get you justice.”

Something in me cracked. My chest hurt, but it wasn’t pain, it was relief. “Thank you.”

When the call ended, I looked around. The streets were empty. The sky was dark. I had nowhere to go. No home. No family. No one was waiting.

Except him.

And the house we once shared still had pieces of my daughter in it. Amy’s shoes. Her drawings. Her laughter buried in the walls.

So I walked. For hours. Until my feet went numb and bleeding.

When I reached the house, I stood at the gate for a long time.

Justine hadn’t even changed the lock.

My hands were trembling when I press the code. The door opened easily.

Inside, everything looked the same. The furniture. The curtains. Even the smell.

The only thing missing was the family photo that used to hang in the living room.

For a second, I almost believed I’d just stepped out yesterday and come back today.

Then I heard a sound behind me.

My heart froze. When I turned around, he was standing there.

Justine.

He was holding an umbrella, rain dripping from his coat. His dark eyes locked on me, unreadable.

We didn’t speak. We just stared.

I was expecting Cerise to appear behind him, but she didn’t. He was alone.

After a moment, he set the umbrella aside and said quietly,

“When did you get back? You should’ve called me. I would’ve picked you up.”

I didn’t answer. I just watched him walk into the bathroom, moving like nothing was wrong, like none of it had ever happened. He came back with a new towel, holding it out to me.

I didn’t take it.

“I know the way... So I came back myself.”

He didn’t even flinch. He just turned and poured tea, the way he used to after long days at the firm.

“Drink some hot water. Don’t catch a cold.”

Steam rose from the cup, fogging the space between us. I took it, holding it tight in both hands,

“Justine, don’t you think it’s time we talked about what happened ten years ago?”

“What happened back then is already settled. You’ve been released. Isn’t that enough? Why keep digging into it?”

I stared at him.

Why bother pursuing it?

My daughter died. I was locked up for ten years for something I didn’t do. And now I wasn’t even allowed to ask why?

The room tilted. My vision blurred. I felt myself losing balance when I heard his voice.

“Emily!”

He rushed toward me.

For a second, I thought he might actually care. But then his phone rang.

“Hello?” His voice changed immediately. “Sofie’s crying? I’ll be right there.”

That sound pulled me back years ago to when Amy was still alive. Justine used to be strict with her. Too strict.

He loved her, but he never showed it the way a father should. He always said, “Girls should be strong. Don’t cry.”

So even when Amy fell and scraped her knees or hit her head, she’d bite back the tears, trying to earn her father’s praise.

And now, Cerise’s daughter only had to cry once, and Justine came running?

I gripped the armrest just to stay standing, refusing to fall in front of him.

“I have to go,” he said softly. “Something urgent came up. You should rest here. Don’t think too much. Call me if you need anything.”

When the door closed, the house fell silent. Too silent.

I sat there for a while before finally standing up. My body still felt heavy, but I wanted to see Amy’s room. Maybe I could find her photo album. Something. Anything.

When I opened the door, my breath caught.

The room was empty. Completely stripped. Even the little drawings she used to make on the wall were painted over.

There was nothing left. Not a single trace of her.

He erased our child.

I slid down the wall, shaking. My scream came out broken, raw, echoing through the hollow room until my voice gave out.

When I could finally move again, I went to the master bedroom. My head was spinning, but a small part of me still hoped Justine had kept something—maybe a ballet shoes, or a photo, hidden somewhere.

But when I walked in, I froze.

Everything here looked exactly the same. My clothes were still in the closet. My perfume was still on the dresser. The sheets were neatly folded, like I’d never left.

Why erase our daughter’s memory but keep mine?

I started opening drawers one by one, not even sure what I was looking for. Then I saw it: a box of condoms, freshly opened, tucked inside the bedside table.

My stomach twisted.

So that was why. He’d kept this room for their games. Maybe it thrilled him to touch her mistress in the same bed we once shared, surrounded by my things.

I felt sick. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left in me.

My whole body hurts. My chest burned. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The tiles felt cold against my skin as I fell to the floor, the edges of the room fading into black.

When I opened my eyes again, the light was already creeping in through the curtains. My head felt heavy, and every part of me ached. I was lying on that same bed I used to share with him.

Justine was standing next to the bed. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching me. His face looked calm, too calm, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t name. For a second, I thought I saw pity. Maybe even love. But I knew better than to believe that.

“Since we’ve come to this point, why don’t you just throw my things away? Let Cerise move in. Isn’t that what you both want?” I tried to sit up, but my body felt weak. “Is this your idea of excitement? Sleeping with her in the same bed, surrounded by my things?”

His face changed instantly. I could tell he was furious, “You know about Cerise?”

“I saw you both yesterday... I saw her holding your hand. I saw the kid.”

He didn’t even flinch. “We do have a child.”

Something in me broke again.

My hands shook, “I remember when we first got married,” my voice trembling. “You used to keep me up all night, saying you couldn’t get enough of me. You said you wanted me so much you could lose your mind.” I laughed bitterly. “You said if you could, you’d keep me inside you forever. That way, I’d always belong to you.”

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, looking away.

“The man who said that… now belongs to someone else,” I whispered. “Tell me, Justine. If you’re so happy with her, why not divorce me? Why make me live through this?”

He finally looked at me. “Divorce you? In a week, the Judicial Council will announce the new appointees. I can’t risk it, Emily. I can’t give them a reason to doubt me.” He paused, then added quietly, “Once this week is over, we’ll get the divorce.”

I stared at him. Suddenly everything made sense. Why Cerise and her daughter never stayed here. Why were my clothes still in the closet... Why did he still pretend this was a home... He didn’t keep them for love. He kept them for his reputation. Pathetic.

He was still the same coward.

Cerise’s father had been his mentor. Her older brother was his close friend, too. I still remember the day he told me about her. “She’s my teacher’s daughter, and my friend’s sister,” he said. “She’s young, immature. Don’t take her seriously.”

And when I got jealous, when I wanted to confront her, he held me close and whispered, “Her father’s done so much for me. I don’t want to ruin our relationship over petty things. Trust me. I’ll keep my distance from her.”

I believed him.

That night, after Justine left for work, I went to my daughter’s old room.

It was the only place left that still felt like mine.

When I opened my eyes that morning, I felt something warm over me. A blanket. Thin, rough, but tucked around my shoulders.

For a second, I just stared at it, trying to figure out where it came from. Then I realized—it had to be Justine.

I pulled the blanket off and threw it to the floor. It felt filthy against my skin.

My phone buzzed. A message from Lila.

“I’m trying to hurry up here. You can also look for clues.”

Clues. I stared at the screen for a moment, then turned toward the master bedroom. The door was still half open.

Then I heard laughter.

Soft, sweet laughter that didn’t belong here.

When I reached the bottom, I saw them. Justine and Cerise, standing together in the open kitchen.

The morning light hit her hair, his arm was around her waist, and their bodies moved close. Too close.

I felt my stomach twist.

Justine turned when he heard me. His face went pale for a moment, but then he forced a smile. There was a lipstick mark near his mouth. Bright. Obvious. He didn’t even try to wipe it off.

“Cerise, why are you here?”

Justine spoke before she could answer. “She just wanted to come see you. She heard you were out. Cerise helped me a lot while you were… gone. She even visited the cemetery every year. Took care of the grave. Brought flowers. Toys. Even ballet shoes.”

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight, my heart pounding hard enough to drown everything else out.

“What did you say?” I whispered. Then my voice rose before I could stop it. “What right does she have to go there?! Huh! What right does she have to visit my daughter’s grave?”

I could feel myself shaking. “No murderer has the right to stand there. None.”

Justine didn’t look at me. His eyes went to the floor, his voice quiet. “I already asked someone to perform a ritual. The child has acknowledged her as her godmother.”

Everything inside me went still.

It felt like the blood in my veins turned into knives. The fucking what? A godmother?

Then Cerise started walking toward me. She was holding a bouquet, “Emily,” she said softly, handing it to me. “These are for you. Congratulations on your new life.”

The smell of those flowers hit me before I could even answer. Too sweet. Too strong. My skin started to crawl. It spread fast, an unbearable itch, crawling up my arms, my neck, my face.

And all I could think was that everything about her—her voice, her smile, her scent—was poison.

I slapped the flowers out of her hand. They hit the floor, petals scattering across the tiles. I didn’t even have the strength to yell. What was the point? They’d already taken everything from me.

I turned around and took a few shaky steps, but then I heard it: Cerise’s voice behind me.

“0621!”

The word cut through me. My body reacted before my brain could. “Here!” I said automatically.

For a second, I didn’t understand why I said it. Then I heard her laugh. That sharp, mocking laugh.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Emily,” she said between giggles. “I heard people who’ve been in prison react like that, so I wanted to try it. Just a joke.”

I turned around slowly. Justine was standing there, his hand on her arm.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly. “Don’t make jokes like that again.”

Cerise blinked up at him, smiling. “Okay.”

The way they looked at each other made my stomach twist. Right in front of me, they still couldn’t stop. Still flirting, still touching, as if I wasn’t even there.

All I could think about was that open box of condoms upstairs. My heart went cold.

.....

By evening, I couldn’t take it anymore. I met Lila at a small restaurant. The light there was dim, warm, familiar.

When she saw me, her eyes widened. “Emily, you look awful. Why don’t you move in with me for a while?”

I shook my head. “No need. Just… help me find the evidence fast. Please.”

She didn’t push. Just ordered a table full of food and said softly, “Eat something. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

I barely had time to lift a spoon before I saw her.

Cerise.

She walked in with her daughter, dressed perfectly, smiling as if she owned the world. My heart stopped for a second when I saw the little girl. I couldn’t stop staring.

But she noticed. Of course she noticed.

She pulled her daughter close and said loudly, “Sofie, be good, alright? There’s a murderer here. She killed her own child. If you don’t behave, the police will take you away too.”

I froze.

Then she looked right at me and smiled. “Emily, it’s been ten years. Are you still used to eating out here?”

The whole restaurant went silent. I felt the weight of every single eye turn toward me.

I could hear the whispers.

“That’s her?”

“She killed her daughter?”

“She doesn’t look crazy…”

Their voices cut deeper than knives.

Ten years in prison, and I still hadn’t escaped. When they found out what I’d supposedly done, they all turned on me. Made me clean their mess, eat leftovers from the floor, take beatings that left my skin raw. Every time someone said “child killer,” I felt like dying.

Even now, hearing her say those words, my body started shaking. My throat burned.

Then I heard Lila’s voice—sharp and furious. “Cerise, you’re the murderer!”