- 05.
Outside Ashley’s room, Ryan’s mother was still glued to the TV. I hesitated, then sat beside her, choosing my words carefully. “Mrs. Peterson… I heard Ashley talking… maybe you should be a little nicer to her. She said she’s feeling… well, almost postpartum depressed…”
Ryan’s mother jumped up, fuming. “What
have I done to her? I’m retired! I take care of
her every need, and she still complains? Does
she want me to die?!”
She banged on Ashley’s door. “Get out here,
you ungrateful wretch! You’re complaining
about me now? Just wait until my son gets
home! He’ll teach you a lesson!”
The baby’s cries and Ashley’s screams
echoed from the room.
Ignoring them, Ryan’s mother called her son,
her voice dripping with fake distress. “Ryan,
<
honey… Mom’s old… Mom’s useless… your
wife doesn’t even appreciate me taking care
of the baby… I’m leaving… I won’t stay where
I’m not wanted…”
Satisfied with the chaos I’d sown, I quietly
slipped away.
That evening, I was enjoying a face mask and
a bubble bath when Ashley messaged me.
Apology after apology filled the screen, along
with desperate pleas for my support.
I smirked, leaving her on read.
People are so pathetic.
They reject sincerity and embrace falsehood.
The next day, I received a call even more
dramatic than I’d anticipated…
“Sarah, your cousin was abused! By Ryan! In
the middle of postpartum! She wants a
divorce! Come quick, we’re at my place!”
Divorce?
I bolted upright in bed.
く
The abuse wasn’t surprising. Ashley,
exhausted from childbirth and emotionally
fragile from the constant mistreatment, was a
ticking time bomb.
And Ryan’s mother, fueled by my insinuations
that Ashley was talking behind her back,
wasn’t one to back down from a fight.
Ryan, the mama’s boy, would naturally side
with his mother. The violence was expected.
But… Ashley had the courage to ask for a
divorce?
I frowned.
That courage needed to be extinguished.
Ashley and Ryan were meant to be locked in
this toxic dance. He couldn’t be allowed to
poison another woman.
At my aunt’s house, the two families sat on
opposite sides of the living room, Ashley
sobbing in my aunt’s arms, her face bruised.
^
てるて
ཨ་སད པཔསད༔ ཕཔ
shouting, “Ryan, what is the meaning of this?!
Ashley said you and your mother were
ganging up on her, but I didn’t believe her!
Mrs. Peterson didn’t seem like the type… but
now I see!”
As my family stared at me in confusion, I
helpfully filled in the blanks.
“Ashley said Mrs. Peterson canceled her
postpartum care because of the cost! I told
her nobody could take care of her better than
family, that she was overreacting…”
My aunt’s face darkened. “I paid for that
care! Canceled? Where’s the money? Where’s
the money, Martha?!”
Ryan’s mother shrugged. “We’re family, why
quibble over money? Your money will all go to
my son eventually anyway. Without him, you
won’t even have anyone to bury you!”
Neighbors began gathering at the door, drawn
by the commotion I pressed on fanning the
L
by the commotion. I pressed on, fanning the
flames.
“Ashley also said you refused to hold the
baby because you were too tired…”
“My own grandson? Of course I held him!
She’s lying! Ashley, tell them! If it wasn’t for
me praying and making offerings, you
wouldn’t have gotten pregnant in the first
place! With that lazy womb of yours! I should
have known better! Even after you practically
threw yourself at Ryan after the first date,
forcing him to marry you…”
Ashley gasped.
“You’re lying! You… you drugged us!”
I stared, speechless.
So that’s how they ended up married?
Their actions were even more outrageous
than I’d imagined…
The neighbors, like me, were enjoying the
drama.
A
Ryan finally intervened, silencing his mother
and wife.
“Ashley, I lost my temper yesterday. I
apologize. But divorce is out of the question.
I’ll let you have your little tantrum, for the
sake of the baby, but don’t push it.‘
His condescending tone made everyone
cringe.
“Get out! All of you! Get out of my house!”
My uncle, the real father, finally exploded,
driving Ryan, his mother, and the nosy
neighbors out.
And me?
I savored the look on Ashley’s face.
The dark “eyeshadow” of bruises, the “blush”
of broken capillaries, the “lipstick” of blood at
the corner of her mouth.
I hadn’t applied those colors myself, but my
manipulations had created them.
Beautiful.
After all, in my past life, Ashley was a master of playing the victim, feigning innocence, and throwing others under the bus with her
accidental” slips of the tongue.
This time, I’d claimed the moral high ground.
Prepare for my judgment.
く
of broken capillaries, the “lipstick” of blood at
the corner of her mouth.
I hadn’t applied those colors myself, but my
manipulations had created them.
Beautiful.
After all, in my past life, Ashley was a master of playing the victim, feigning innocence, and throwing others under the bus with her
“accidental” slips of the tongue.
This time, I’d claimed the moral high ground.
Prepare for my judgment.
