This time, the Miller brothers didn’t stop us. Mark remembered Jessica’s words, his eyes lit up with disbelief. He grabbed her arm. Jessica winced in pain, her face contorted. No one cared.
Mark demanded, “Where’s the security
footage? Let me see! My daughter isn’t dead,
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she can’t be! She was at your house last
night…”
Jessica, ignoring the pain, looked panicked.
She stammered, “The… the footage is a little
blurry. You can only see that the kid is small and wearing a dress… I can’t see anything else… Mark, you’re hurting me…”
Her cries grew louder. But no one spoke for
her. She was no longer the center of their world.
After what felt like forever, Lily and I
managed to put the ashes back into the urn. As I stood up, my joints cracked.
I stared at Jessica’s unnatural expression and said to Mark, “If you still care about her, if you still consider yourself her father, don’t let her wander around!”
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“We’re going to bury her now.
My eyes were hollow, filled with despair.
Mark wanted to follow us, to ask about his
daughter. But he swallowed his words.
I saw his hesitation. He felt guilty. I’d thought
he was heartless, but he felt something.
He finally said, “Go. I understand.”
“We’ll talk later.”
He sent us to the cemetery. I wanted to
refuse, but we didn’t have time to get a cab. David followed in another car. He thought we didn’t know, but we just ignored him.
Carrying the urn, I was too heavy to speak. We explained to the staff, finally getting
permission to enter. We watched as two lives became cold tombstones.
As the staff left, I covered my mouth, sobbing
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uncontrollably. What had my years of
perseverance brought me? If I’d left when I
found out I was pregnant and Mark didn’t love
me… maybe my daughter would still be alive.
I thought having a daughter would change his mind, bring him back. I overestimated him, my stubbornness ruined my life and killed my daughter.
