“I-I didn’t try to cause trouble, it’s my birthday today, so I wore red… just hoping for a bit of luck…”
“I really didn’t know today was your mother’s death anniversary, I just… I just came home with Brother Zion because he told me to…”
Her voice got weaker and weaker, and in the end, she leaned straight into Zion’s arms, acting like she’d been hurt badly.
Zion’s face had already darkened completely.
He lowered his head first, checking her carefully, then eased his voice. “Were you scared?”
Maeve shook her head, then nodded, tears falling even faster, but she still held onto him as she whispered, “I’m okay.”
Only then did Zion lift his head and stare at me, his eyes cold and empty.
“Natalie, I assumed you had finally matured and learned to think. I didn’t expect you to still act like this.”
“Your mom has been gone for so long. I only learned today that her death anniversary falls on the same date as Maeve’s birthday.”
“I brought her in because I thought adding a bit of cheer might make the day lighter for your mom’s death anniversary. It’s not like I did anything wrong. And even that bothers you?”
“So childish.”
I angrily laughed.
When my mom was still here, she treated Zion like her own child, yet he walked in with another woman dressed in a red dress, standing in front of my mom’s memorial, and he still dared to say I was narrow-minded.
I raised my head, looked at Zion, and my voice became steady.
“Zion, on my mom’s death anniversary, you brought your mistress home. Is that what you call being broad-hearted?”
My sudden reply made Zion’s face turn dark in an instant.
He stared at me for a few moments, then let out a cold, short laugh.
“Natalie, you’re unbelievable! You can’t recognize kindness when you see it!”
He reached over, pulled Maeve into his arms, and covered her as he turned to walk out, as if saying even one more word to me was pointless.
I drew in a deep breath.
Then I turned around, forced a proper smile onto my face, and offered apologies and farewells to every relative and friend.
After the last guest left, I slowly stepped toward my mom’s memorial tablet and let all my defenses fall.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Today is your death anniversary, but I ended up upsetting you. Okay, let’s stop bringing up things that hurt… Mom, I set up a room for the baby. Will you come see it?”
I held the memorial tablet and slowly walked toward the small room.