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!”

Before I could stop her, she threw a glass of water right into Cerise’s face. Cerise gasped, stumbling back, while her daughter Sofie crying beside her.

And that was when the door opened.

A tall figure walked in, his voice cutting through the chaos. “What’s going on here?”

Justine.

Of course. He always showed up when she needed saving.

The moment he walked in, Cerise’s whole face changed. Her eyes turned red, and she clutched her daughter tight, shaking as if she was the one who’d been wronged.

“I just wanted to treat Emily to dinner,” she said in a trembling voice. “I don’t even know what I did wrong. She got angry and told her friend to hurt my child…”

The little girl pointed straight at me, crying. “Bad woman! You bully my mom! I hate you. I hate you! You killed your own child.”

I froze. My throat tightened. Before I could even speak, Justine’s face turned dark. He stepped forward, placing himself between us like I was some danger to them.

“You’ve had a child before, Emily!” His voice cut through me. “Why can’t you be kind to another one?”

The words hit harder than any slap.

Yes, I’d had a child. My baby. My little girl who used to laugh when Justine threw her in the air. The baby he once held so tenderly, kissing my forehead and whispering, “Thank you for completing my life.”

But he ruined mine.

And then came the voices behind him.

“Isn’t that Emily? The one who went to jail?”

“She used to brag about being a brilliant doctor. Guess she couldn’t save her own kid.”

“Imagine killing your own daughter. What a monster.”

I looked up and saw a few of his colleagues walking in, all staring at me. I didn’t even bother to defend myself. What was the point?

Justine lowered his voice and said coldly, “Go home. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

Cerise smoothed her dress, wiped her face, and started greeting his colleagues like she was the wife of the house.

I grabbed Lila’s wrist before she could speak and pulled her toward the door. I didn’t say anything. My face felt numb.

As we walked out, Justine’s eyes flickered toward me. For a moment, he looked almost human, almost regretful, when he saw the scars on my arms. But he didn’t say a word.

After I sent Lila home, I bought ballons, candles, and small toys. Then I took a taxi to the cemetery.

.....

When I saw the grave, my knees nearly gave out.

Weeds everywhere. The soil was cracked, untouched. No one had been here. Not once.

And then I saw it.

Someone had written two words in red paint across the tombstone: bastard.

I froze. My chest felt tight, my vision went blurry. I stumbled forward and started rubbing the paint with my hands, crying her name. “No, no, no…”

The paint wouldn’t come off. It mixed with my blood until the word stood out darker, redder, uglier.

I kept scrubbing until my palms split open. Until I couldn’t breathe. Until I fell to my knees and screamed.

Then the rain came heavy, cold, soaking everything.

I don’t know how long I cried. By the time I stopped, the sky was gray. I went to find someone to make a new tombstone, cleaned the weeds, wiped the mud off her photo, and lined up the toys in front of her grave.

My voice shook when I whispered, “Mom will make them pay. All of them.”

By the time I got home, the sky was starting to lighten.

The door hadn’t even closed behind me when Justine’s voice came from the living room. “Didn’t I tell you to go home?! Where were you? I called all night! Do you even know—”

He stopped when I walked past him. I didn’t even look his way.

“Today’s our daughter’s death anniversary,” I said quietly.

And before I could take another step, everything went black.

When I came to, I heard a voice through the haze. It sounded soft, tired. Maybe it was him.

“Emily… I’m sorry.”

Then a ringing sound broke through, sharp and real.

I opened my eyes to an empty room. Just a dream.

The phone kept ringing. I reached for it and answered.

When my phone rang, I didn’t even check who it was. My hands were shaking too much. But when I heard Lila’s voice, my chest tightened.

“Emily,” she said, her tone trembling and excited. “I found it. I found proof that Cerise was the one who killed your daughter.”