She Stops Fighting And Hands Her Husband Over To The Other Woman Chapter 07

She Stops Fighting And Hands Her Husband Over To The Other Woman Chapter 07

The funeral was handled in a rush.

Julian numbly contacted the funeral home, picked out an urn, settled on a plot at Greenwood Memorial Park, and

accepted condolences from relatives.

His face remained expressionless. his eyes sunken and bloodshot.

He neither cried nor laughed, handling everything as if it were a routine chore.

Only when he occasionally caught sight of his daughter-

Who was afraid of him but still gripped the hem of his jacket, looking up with her swollen face to ask if “Mommy turned

into a star-

Would his movements pause for a single second.

He didn’t dare stop, because stopping meant facing the terror.

Elena was gone, and he had completely lost his home.

In the three years she was away, he hadn’t actually changed a single thing in the house.

Why couldn’t Elena see his devotion after she came back?

Elena hadn’t forgiven him even at the moment of her death.

Had she really never noticed?

The ornaments she liked hadn’t been moved an inch.

He had wiped the dust off her precious wedding photos every single day.

Yes, the photos, the ornaments…

He suddenly remembered that those very items he had so carefully preserved had all been smashed by him that day in a

fit of rage.

A fresh wave of agony drowned him.

There was less and less left of Elena in this world.

He found it impossible to sleep at night. He walked to the maid’s quarters where she had stayed.

Her laundry, yet to be taken in, was still hanging on the balcony; the pill bottle was still on the nightstand

Maya hid in the corner of that room. becoming unusually silent; she did nothing but cry or sleep

She didn’t yet understand where her mother had gone or the permanence of ‘death.”

But she must have sensed something.

For the last few days, she basically refused to communicate with Julian, murmuring ‘Mommy’ to herself and looking at Julian as if he were a stranger.

His son was wailing and throwing tantrums, just like before, crying out for his mother throughout the house.

He woke up frequently at night with nightmares and needed a nanny to stay with him the entire time just to sleep.

But at his age, he should have already understood that his mother was never coming back.

The burial plot was in an ordinary cemetery.

On the day of the funeral, the sky was overcast, with a faint, almost imperceptible drizzle.

The man wore a black suit, listening to the funeral director’s eulogy.

He watched as the small urn was slowly lowered into the cold grave, shovelful after shovelful of yellow earth covering it.

His son finally broke down, throwing himself onto the headstone and crying out in regret for his mother.

Maya began to howl as well.

Relatives stepped forward to support and comfort them.

The man remained standing, his back ramrod straight, his face a mask of indifferent calm.

His fingernails dug deep into his palms.

For the next two months, he knelt before the headstone every day.

The woman in the photo smiled gently.

It was taken years ago before he was with Cassie; her eyes were bright then, and she was happy.

He had destroyed all of it with his own hands!

No, it wasn’t just him; there was his mother, and Cassie.

They were all to blame.

Together, they had destroyed everything!

He didn’t know how long he had been kneeling.

Not until his legs had completely lost sensation and his body began to shake uncontrollably

Only then did he pull out the phone that had vibrated countless times in his pocket

It was Cassie.

Fine Since you still dare to call me!

Then let’s settle this score once and for all.