< (From Ashes to Hope…
(From Ashes to Hope) Chapter 11
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John accused me of stirring up trouble, of being petty and jealous, like a
suspicious wife.
His every word was like a cold blade, piercing my already wounded heart,
adding fresh pain.
Similar incidents had happened countless times, each one like coarse salt
rubbed into my wounds, the pain and suffering festering within me,
Even though I tried to handle these conflicts carefully, not wanting to escalate things, news still reached Mrs. Miller’s ears, like birds with wings,
somehow finding their way to her.
Upon learning the situation, she would, just like today, call me and try to
persuade me to back down.
Her words echoed in my ears, each one urging me to compromise. I still
remember what she said on the phone.
She believed that John’s marriage to me meant he had let go of his past. Since there was no concrete, substantial evidence proving his infidelity with me, I shouldn’t dwell on it, as if my persistence was unreasonable.
She also said that in this complex society, unfaithful men were as common
as fish in a river.
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In her view, John was a man of good judgment who would never make
mistakes regarding matters of family and life.
She felt that John always treated me with respect as his wife, being
courteous and attentive to me in social settings and family gatherings.
Therefore, she thought I should be more considerate of John, not arguing
with him over trivial matters, making him lose face in front of others.
I heeded her advice and began a long wait with a glimmer of hope.
Days turned into weeks, I was like a traveler in the desert longing for rain,
hoping that life would become as beautiful as she described.
Every day, I hoped John would change, show me more care and tenderness,
re–examine our shaky marriage.
But time slipped away, and Lily would forever be five.
I never saw any softening in his heart towards me.
He remained cold and indifferent, I seemed to have lost my place in his heart,
like a forgotten shadow.
Lily’s departure was too sudden, like a gust of wind, shattering my already
fragile life.
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I had neither the time nor the opportunity to explain everything to Mrs.
Miller, my unspoken words rotting away in my heart.
Now, let John tell his mother himself.
I didn’t want to explain or negotiate anymore, a deep weariness spreading
from the depths of my soul, a sense of powerlessness.
This was the first time I had been so cold to my mother–in–law, my heart
ached.
Perhaps in her mind, Raina was manipulative and cunning, not suitable for
their family.
But she didn’t force John to break up with Raina, she had deeper
considerations.
She had been quietly searching for a suitable marriage partner for John,
someone from a family with similar financial standing, good upbringing, and a
strong background, hoping to boost John’s career and the family’s development
through marriage.
However, my mother’s dying wish disrupted the balance.
My mother wanted me to marry John and live a stable and happy life, maybe
she thought John was trustworthy.
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But this wish was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, disrupting Mrs.
Miller’s plan, creating cracks in her carefully laid out scheme.
Because of this, a rift formed between mother and son.
Sometimes I felt that if Mrs. Miller hadn’t made that promise to my mother,
I would never have been able to marry into their family. I was like an outsider
who had stumbled into their lives, and the promise was the key that forced open
the door to their home.
The feeling of being unjustly suspected was like needles pricking my heart, a
subtle but persistent pain.
Silence returned to the room, a suffocating silence, the air heavy and
oppressive.
Whenever I was alone, memories of Lily’s life played out before my eyes like
a movie. Her innocent smile was like the bright spring sunshine, warm and
radiant; her lively eyes sparkled like stars, filled with curiosity and innocence;
her playful movements were like a charming dance, each one filled with childlike
wonder.
It was as if she never left, still playing by my side.
I gently stroked the cold urn in my arms, the sensation traveling from my
fingertips to my heart, like stroking Lily’s soft hair.
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I whispered in her ear, “Baby, don’t be afraid. When Daddy finds out the
truth, Mommy will take you away from this sad place, and we’ll never come back.”
My voice was soft, filled with longing and tenderness for my daughter.
Thinking this way, my heart was filled with hope for the future and a
resolute rejection of the past, a determination to break free from the pain.
I slowly closed my eyes, my consciousness fading. Just then, I faintly heard
Lily’s familiar, sweet, and lovely voice.
I couldn’t help but smile, immersing myself in this momentary illusion, as if
everything was still the same, Lily was still by my side, and we were living a
simple and happy life.
In this house, I was like a lonely traveler, carrying a heavy burden of pain,
misunderstanding, and longing.
The complex relationships and unfounded suspicions exhausted me,
physically and emotionally, like being trapped in an invisible web.
both
And with Lily’s departure, the last shred of attachment I had to this house
had almost vanished.
I only longed to break free from it all, to take Lily’s soul to a peaceful place,
where she could rest, and where we could both be freed from endless suffering.
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I don’t know how much time passed, time seemed to stand still in the silent
room, each second long and heavy.
Suddenly, the sound of the door opening shattered the silence, the sound
like a sharp sword piercing the quiet night, pulling me from my hazy
consciousness.
I struggled to open my eyes, as if bound by heavy shackles, my gaze blurry as
I looked towards the door.
him.
John stood before me, his face haggard, a profound dejection hanging over
His eyes were bloodshot, a network of red veins crisscrossing his pupils, a
terrifying sight.
He looked directly at me on the sofa, his voice hoarse and raspy, like an old
bellows, each word squeezed out of his throat with excruciating effort, “Why,
why didn’t you tell me about Lily?”
I looked at his dejected face, his unshaven chin a testament to his neglect, as
if life had beaten him down, stripping him of his sense of self.
At that moment, a strange sense of satisfaction surged within me, like a long- suppressed resentment finding its outlet, bubbling up like a fountain in my heart.
A cold smile spread across my face, my voice icy, “I told you, you blocked me,
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I couldn’t reach you.”
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John’s spirit seemed to crumble at my words.
He clutched his head with both hands, his knuckles white from the pressure,
as if trying to crush his skull, his body trembling uncontrollably.
He slowly sank to the floor, drained of all strength, like an abandoned child,
alone and helpless.
In a voice so weak it was almost inaudible, he whispered, “How am I going to
explain this to Mom?”
L
