My plan had been simple—enjoy a week of vacation with Lily in this foreign place, just the two of us.

But the tragedy struck on the second day, and instead of exploring new sights, I spent the rest of my time dealing with the painful process of getting Lily’s body back home.

Daniel kept checking up on me through texts and calls, but I barely had the energy to respond. I was too drained, too heartbroken to even look at my phone.

Most of the time, I slept, wishing that somehow I would wake up and find Lily beside me, like all of this was just a horrible nightmare. But it wasn’t. This was real, and every time I opened my eyes, the emptiness hit me all over again.

Daniel wanted to fly out immediately, but work held him back. I told him not to worry—that I was okay, even though I wasn’t. I knew he would’ve dropped everything and been on the next flight if he could.

On the seventh day, I finally boarded the plane home, Lily’s casket coming with me. It felt surreal, like I was just going through the motions, completely numb.

By that point, I had completely given up on reaching Michael. I’d stopped trying after every call at the hospital went straight to voicemail or was outright declined. In the worst moment of my life, he was nowhere to be found.

Looking back, I should’ve seen it coming. He had always been absent when I needed him most. I chuckled bitterly, thinking about how foolish I was to ever expect him to step up and do the bare minimum as a husband, as a father.

Fine, I told myself again and again, “I can do this on my own.” I had to.

When I landed at the airport, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, so seeing Daniel waiting for me caught me off guard.

He stood near the baggage claim, his face soft with that same warm smile I had seen so many times before. The moment I saw him, I broke down, tears streaming down my face.

It was the same look he gave me when my mom passed away seven years ago, before he knew I had secretly married Michael. It was like he was always there for the worst moments of my life, steady and reliable, even when everything else crumbled around me

He didn’t say anything as I walked over to him, just opened his arms, and I fell into them, sobbing. He held me, just like he always had, and I let myself cry, because for the first time in days, I didn’t have to pretend to be strong.

When my mom was critically ill, her last wish was for me to marry before she passed. She knew my dad had died years before, and I was the only one left by her side.

She wouldn’t be at peace until she knew I was settled, with someone who could take care of me after she was gone. Michael seemed like the perfect choice in her eyes.

He wasn’t just anyone—he was our relative’s son, and since his family struggled financially, my mom had practically raised him.

She helped him through school, gave him opportunities, and trusted him with our family business. And to be fair, under his leadership, the business flourished.

After everything we had done for him, Michael couldn’t refuse when my mom asked him to marry me. I admired him, so I had no objections either.

We went to the City Hall, signed the papers, and that was that. No party, no announcements, just a quiet marriage no one else knew about.

But I was naïve. I had no idea this was the beginning of a resentment that would last for years.

What I didn’t know at the time was that long before we got married, Michael had wanted to be with someone else—Alison, my childhood best friend.

I would never forget that one night, years into our marriage, when he came home drunk and let it all slip.

“You’re just an obstacle,” he slurred, his words like knives. “An obstacle in my life, in my relationship with Alison. If it wasn’t for you and your mom, I’d be married to her by now.”

It felt like my heart shattered in that moment, but it wasn’t the first time Michael had broken it, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Over the years, I watched him choose Alison over me and Lily, time and time again. Missed birthdays, family dinners, important milestones—he was never there. Lily, bless her, always tried so hard to be the perfect daughter, hoping one day he would finally love her the way she deserved.

Every time she asked where her dad was, I’d give the same excuse, “He’s busy with work, sweetie.”

But she wasn’t fooled, not really. There were so many nights when she would stay up late, refusing to go to bed until he came home.

I’d end up carrying her, asleep in my arms, to her bed, only to hear her disappointment the next morning when she realized she had missed him again.

That was why I planned the vacation—just a simple trip, so we could all be together for a few days. I thought maybe if we had that time, Lily would finally feel like she had a father who cared.

I thought maybe it would bring us closer, even if just for a little while. I wanted to give her that. But as usual, Michael found a reason not to come, and I should’ve known better than to expect anything else.

Alas, nothing went the way I had planned. I couldn’t stop the tears when I thought about how bright Lily’s smile had been when I told her we were going on vacation, just the three of us. She was so excited. It breaks my heart just thinking about it now.

“You wanna grab some coffee first?” Daniel’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I blinked away the tears and realized we were almost at my house. I shook my head and forced a small smile. “No, thanks,” I whispered, “I just need to sleep.”

The exhaustion from the jetlag and overwhelming grief weighed me down. Tomorrow was Lily’s burial, and I needed all the rest I could get to make it through. Thankfully, Daniel had helped me prepare everything.

“I’ll be here at 7 tomorrow,” Daniel said gently as he pulled up to my driveway. I nodded, barely able to muster the energy to speak.

The car ride from the airport had been filled with a heavy, uncomfortable silence, but Daniel understood. He didn’t try to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter; he just let me be.

As I got out, a few of the maids came to help with the luggage—mine and Lily’s. They already knew what had happened, and their eyes were filled with sympathy, though no one said a word.

I was grateful for that. I wasn’t ready to hear the words, to confront the pity in their voices.

I dragged myself upstairs, barely bothering to undress before stepping into the shower. I washed off the grime from the journey, but no amount of water could cleanse the ache in my heart.

I crawled into bed, hoping sleep would take me away for a few hours, at least. But the moment I closed my eyes, all I could see was Lily’s face—her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes would light up when she was happy.

I tossed and turned, trying to escape the memories, but it was no use. Eventually, I curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest as silent sobs shook my body.

I cried until I had no tears left, until the exhaustion finally pulled me under. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, but at least it was something.

“Ma’am, there’s a man waiting outside,” a maid said as I was finishing my makeup. I gave a nod and stepped out in my black dress.

Daniel drove us to the private cemetery, where the burial ceremony was brief and solemn. It was just a small gathering—Daniel, a few close maids who had cared for Lily, and me.

Their quiet sobs filled the air, but I felt empty. I had cried enough over the past few days; my tears had run dry.

After a few minutes, they left me alone with Lily’s grave. Daniel gave my shoulder a reassuring pat before heading back to the car.

I crouched beside the tombstone, my fingers brushing the fresh soil. I didn’t say anything; my heart was set on making sure Lily received the justice she deserved.

When I got home, I was completely drained. I found myself staring blankly at the living room where I used to teach Lily her alphabets, the garden where I watched her play, and, worst of all, her bedroom where I used to tuck her in and read her stories before bed.

Her things were scattered everywhere, a constant reminder of the little girl I’d lost. The memories seemed to close in on me from every corner, overwhelming me.

Feeling lightheaded, I reached out for the wall to steady myself. I called out for help, and a few maids hurried over.

“Ma’am, sit down. Someone, get her some water!” one of them said, her voice tinged with panic.

I pressed my temples and managed to say, “No, take me to my room. And please, get all of Lily’s things and put them in the attic. Everything. I can’t stand to see them right now.”

They paused for a moment, glancing at each other before agreeing and guiding me to my room. As we made our way, I heard a commotion downstairs and froze when I saw the last people I wanted to deal with right now: Michael and Allison. I rolled my eyes and steeled myself for what was coming.

Michael was helping Allison to the sofa, her arm around him for support. Both of them looked a bit disheveled, still in beach attire, which meant they had just arrived.

When they saw me, Michael’s gaze shifted away, and Allison looked momentarily caught off guard.

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Allison began, her voice wobbly. “I fell and scraped my knee while we were out. Michael said—” She trailed off, looking to Michael for reassurance.

“Don’t make a scene, Emma,” Michael snapped, focusing on Allison’s injury and barking orders at the maids. It was as if I wasn’t even there.

“Don’t make a scene?” I pushed back, my voice tight. “You said you had work to do. Why are you with her?”

Michael sighed and just stared at me, clearly annoyed.

“Answer me, Michael!” I demanded, my teeth clenched.

“Come on, Emma,” he said dismissively. “I promised Allison first. We can always take Lily later. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

I felt my fingers clench into fists, the pain almost a relief from the anger boiling inside me. I was done with him treating us like we were nothing.

“You promised, Michael! You promised Lily!” I shouted, my voice cracking with frustration. Michael looked startled by my outburst. I had kept my composure through all his failings, but now, enough was enough.

“Why are you being so dramatic?” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“This is why I hate talking to you. You make me feel trapped in my own life. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m sure Lily won’t mind,” he added, pulling out the first aid kit and starting to look for bandages and alcohol.

His nonchalant attitude was infuriating. It felt as if he was minimizing our grief and treating our suffering as a minor inconvenience, and I was done playing along with his twisted sense of priorities.

I let out a bitter chuckle. “You can’t make it up, Michael. Lily is dead.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, and anger flashed across his face. “I can’t believe you’d go this far, faking your own daughter’s death to make me feel guilty. What kind of mother are you? Watch your mouth!” he snapped, his voice rising.

I felt a surge of frustration, like I was trying to reason with a brick wall.

Before I could respond, Allison cut in with a disingenuous tone. “Listen, I know I shouldn’t have asked Michael to come with me, but you don’t need to fake something as serious as your daughter’s death. It could be a bad omen. What if something terrible happens later?”

Her innocent act was infuriating. This was the same Allison who had once been my close friend. She had deceived me before, crying and claiming there was nothing between her and Michael when I confronted her years ago.

But over time, it became clear she had been lying. Our friendship had shattered, and she had continued to play the victim, telling people I was the villain who had cut her off without a chance to explain. I had let it go because I wanted peace with Lily.

But now, she was accusing me of lying about Lily’s death and trying to dismiss it as a mere ploy.

My anger boiled over. Trembling with rage, I slapped her hard, the sound of the impact echoing through the living room.

The room fell into a heavy silence for a moment before Michael snapped out of his shock and rushed over to Allison. I couldn’t take it any longer. I turned and headed upstairs, ignoring Michael’s angry shouts and desperate calls.

Once I was in my room, I locked the door behind me and sank down onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.

Everything felt overwhelming and exhausting. I crawled to my bed, too drained to change out of my dress or wipe off my makeup, and tried to sleep.

The next morning, I came out of my room to find Allison sitting at the dining table. Michael was fussing over her, serving her a plate of what looked like a gourmet breakfast.

He didn’t even seem to notice my tear-streaked, swollen face.

I took a seat across from them, and Allison finally glanced my way with a faux-innocent expression. “Emma, you’re up. I stayed the night because Michael said I needed to rest. But don’t worry, I stayed in the guest room,” she said with a pitiful tone that made my skin crawl. I knew all too well what she was up to.

“No need to explain yourself, Allison,” Michael said abruptly.

Then, turning to me, he added, “You slapped Allison yesterday. Apologize now if you have any decency left.”

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he was making this the issue first thing in the morning.

“No, really, Michael. I’m sure Emma is sorry for what happened. You don’t need to make her apologize to me,” Allison interjected, her Bambi eyes looking up at Michael with feigned innocence.

“Stop being nice to her. She doesn’t deserve it,” Michael snapped back.

I ignored their petty arguments and focused on serving myself some food. It had been a rough day yesterday, and I hadn’t even managed to have dinner.

Seeing my indifference, Michael’s frustration boiled over. He stormed over to me, yanked my arm, and dragged me roughly to stand beside Allison. My spoon clattered to the floor, and I felt a surge of annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shot him a furious glare.

“I said apologize to her!” Michael snapped, his voice cold and commanding. The room fell silent, the tension palpable.

I clenched my teeth, my voice trembling with anger, “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make you,” he said, pushing me roughly so that I fell to my knees on the floor.

He pinned my shoulder down, and I struggled to get up, but his strength was too much for me, especially now when I was physically and emotionally drained. Some maids approached, clearly concerned, but Michael’s roar sent them fleeing.

“I told you to apologize three times, and you’ve acted like a spoiled brat, ignoring me,” he growled. “Now, Allison, give her a taste of her own medicine. Slap her, just like she did to you!”

I was stunned. Michael’s demand was a punch to the gut. As I looked at his harsh, unfeeling face, the image I had of him for so many years shattered.

The man who used to stand up for me, who I had once loved deeply, was gone. Now, he was just a stranger—one who was asking another woman to slap his wife.

The protective and caring version of him that I fell for had long since vanished. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time he’d shown me any kindness after we were married.

It was clear that Allison had played a significant role in changing him, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he started to despise me so thoroughly.

After Michael’s harsh command, Allison finally slapped me across the face. The force of it made my head spin, and I ended up trying to steady myself with my hands on the floor.

But before I could even react, I heard Allison’s sobs.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she choked out, “I… I slapped my best friend. What kind of person am I?” She buried her face in her hands, and Michael rushed over to comfort her, wrapping her in a hug.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re too softhearted. It’s okay,” he said soothingly.

I stared in disbelief. I had learned the hard way how two-faced Allison could be, but this act of hers was something else entirely.

She had just slapped me, and now she was putting on a performance, crying and playing the victim. It was a new low, even for her.

I was on the verge of storming out, unable to stand being around them any longer. But before I could make my move, Michael grabbed my hand.

“Let me go!” I said, my voice cracking as tears started to well up in my eyes.