Chapter 3
When my mother fell into a coma, Nora was only three months old, and I had already missed the best time for surgery.
During that time, I was busy selling assets and caring for my mother.
So busy that I temporarily forgot I was pregnant.
Until my stomach grew, and I had to face the reality.
Hearing the heartbeat for the first time gave me the courage to live.
During my late pregnancy, I often dreamed of Rowan, endlessly questioning him why he did this to me.
When Nora was born, I no longer fixated on why.
I just wanted to see him, even a phone call would do.
But he vanished, leaving no trace.
At twenty, I met Gideon, fifteen years my senior.
He offered me a job, saying it would solve my financial troubles.
He said he and Adeline had lost all feelings, only maintaining a facade of marriage.
When living became a luxury, who had the right to talk about dignity?
So I accepted his terms, becoming his mistress without guilt.
I never feared retribution because my retribution began the day I met Rowan.
He approached me only to take revenge on my mother.
Because his first love, Iris, committed suicide by jumping off a building in her senior year.
Iris was a student my mother taught, a girl infamous for young love.
This story spread because of my mother’s report.
Iris wrote love letters in class, and my mother made her read them aloud.
The classroom filled with jeers, and Iris knelt, begging for mercy.
But my mother insisted on making the letter public, and the recipient was Rowan.
My mother despised young love, believing students should focus on studies.
She kept Iris in the office, reprimanding her all night.
“Are you worthy of your parents’ efforts? Ruining your future for a boy!”
Then, ignoring Iris’s pleas, she notified her father.
The drunk man stormed into the office, swinging a chair at Iris.
Several teachers held him back, but his curses were relentless.
“Whore! Just like your slut mother, always seducing men!”
“If you want men so much, go sell yourself like your mom!”
From that day, Iris became a laughingstock at school.
The once top student became a pariah.
She started getting into fights, or rather, being beaten.
It wasn’t fighting, it was blatant bullying.
My mother thought she was acting out and became harsher.
Because of repeated reports, Iris lost all scholarships.
That day, she went to see my mother, probably got another lecture.
Not long after, she jumped from the rooftop.
From that day, Rowan entered my life.
He used every trick to win me over, and I didn’t know it was a carefully planned revenge.
Until the day college entrance exam results came out, he threw my pregnancy test results at my mother.
“Ms. Sage, you hate young love the most, now your daughter has become a plaything for me!”
That wasn’t a fight; it was outright bullying. My mother thought I was being purposely rebellious and became stricter with me. After multiple reports, Iris lost all her scholarships. That day, she went to see her mother, likely receiving another lecture. Not long after, she jumped off the rooftop. From that day, Rowan invaded my life. He used every possible way to win my favor, but I didn’t realize it was part of a carefully orchestrated revenge. It wasn’t until the day the college entrance exam results were released that he threw my pregnancy test results in front of my mother.
“Ms. Sage, you despise young love the most, and now your daughter has become the disgrace I’ve toyed with!”
That sentence shattered my mother’s mental support. I’ll always remember the mix of shock, shame, despair, and guilt on her face. I wanted to confess my mistake, but her tears fell before I could.
“Sage, it’s all Mom’s fault. Mom didn’t teach you well, Mom doesn’t blame you…”
For eight years, this memory has been a persistent torment, gnawing at me day and night. Rowan suddenly rushed out of the car and grabbed my neck.
“Sage, how can you be so indifferent? Iris was a human life!”
“Does your mother still think she’s so great now?”
“Does she know that Iris jumped off the rooftop because of her?”
Whether my mother regrets it, I can no longer know. At the moment before she lost consciousness, this question became an eternal mystery.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“This is all our fault.”
Iris’s mother who exposed her was wrong.
The father who abused his daughter was wrong.
The classmates who bullied Iris were wrong.
The bystanders who spread rumors were wrong.
And I, as my mother’s daughter, was also wrong.
But we’ve all paid the price.
Rowan viciously pulled my hair:
“Sorry? If you’re really sorry, why don’t you just die?”
He trembled all over, repeatedly growling:
“Why wasn’t it you who died? Go and die now!”