My mother-in-law lay beneath a stark white sheet, the wound on her chest not even sutured shut. The cold seeped through the fabric when I touched her, snuffing out my last shred of hope.
She'd been left there alone in a corner. Not a single person had come to check on her. And Clay hadn't shown his face once.
I swallowed the pain in my chest and began making arrangements, but my phone kept buzzing with messages from Evangeline. Every single one was a photo or video of her and Clay together.
Him holding her hand at the mall. Buying her expensive jewelry. Taking her to upscale restaurants. In every shot, his smile was soft and warm, a completely different man from the one who screamed at me like I was nothing.
The caption she'd attached was even worse: "Dr. Farley says he's going to take good care of me from now on. The people who dragged him down aren't worth a second glance."
I stared at those images until my fingertips turned white from gripping the phone. I didn't reply. I just threw myself into preparing the funeral.
Three days passed in a blur. The memorial was set up on an open lot near the hospital. White silk, black gauze, the low drone of mourning music. Hardly any guests. Cold and quiet.
A few steps away, a high-end restaurant blazed with lights and color. Drums and music poured from its doors. It was the birthday banquet Clay had organized for his "most beloved mother."
A red silk arch stood directly across from the memorial hall, gold lettering gleaming in shameless celebration: Wishing Mrs. Farley boundless fortune and everlasting health. Well-dressed guests streamed past with gifts in hand, laughing and chatting. Not one of them noticed the mourning next door. Not one of them heard the funeral music, as if that single stretch of pavement separated two entirely different worlds.
I had just finished lighting incense before my mother-in-law's memorial tablet when I saw Evangeline strolling over on Clay's arm. She wore an elegant gown, her makeup done up heavy and flawless. The moment she spotted me, her lips curled into a look of practiced sympathy, though her voice carried loud enough for every guest nearby to hear.
"Dorothy, I'm so sorry. I had no idea your family was going through something like this. If I'd known sooner, I would've asked Dr. Farley to move the banquet somewhere else. This is just so... unfortunate."