Mom’s heart gave out. She’d found the bride at my wedding wasn't me, but Skylar, Asher’s business partner. A single gasp, then nothing. The moment she stopped breathing, my wedding became her funeral. Asher, though, ordered the ceremony to proceed. He even forced me to place the ring on Skylar’s finger. “Now! Put it on her! I’ll explain tonight.” I ignored his threats, cradling Mom’s body as I left the hotel. By eight that night, the “successful” wedding, with its new bride, concluded. Skylar crowed on her social media feed: “Hehe! Finally married to my guiding light today. So grateful to the third wheel who knew when to leave.” Asher followed, posting: “Some people just aren’t worthy of love.” In the chilling silence of the morgue, I ‘liked’ both their posts. My comment: “Wishing you forever.” Then I clutched Mom’s urn, ready to move out, only to find Asher locked in a passionate kiss with Skylar on the new couch I’d bought for our future. 1 Late that night, I returned home, Mom’s urn clutched to my chest, the moonlight outside as cold as ice. At the door, Skylar’s heels were brazenly placed by the entryway, as if she were the lady of the house. It wasn’t her first “visit” by a long shot. Since she became a Caldwell partner three years ago, she’d been a constant fixture, citing “work discussions.” Morning or a stormy night, didn’t matter. Asher would always tell me to “know my place.” “The company makes money, and you, idle as you are, get to enjoy it.” Now, all I had left was this feather-light urn. Pushing the door open, I found Asher and Skylar, bathed in the dim glow, in a fervent embrace on the very couch I’d picked out for our new life together. Skylar, eyes glazed with drink, draped herself over him. Seeing me enter, Asher glanced at the urn, then pushed Skylar away with a dismissive tone: “So, she really died. Not just an act. Still not done with your dramatics? Fine, I feel guilty now.” A bitter laugh escaped me. When Mom had collapsed from rage, he’d sneered, “If only she’d just die.” Now she was gone, and he paraded this flimsy “guilt”? Today should have been the happiest day of my life—marrying Asher, my childhood sweetheart of twenty years. I even had a bigger surprise planned: despite his low sperm count, a less than one-in-a-million chance of conception, I held a positive pregnancy test in my pocket. But looking at his face now, all I felt was profound disgust. “Asher, it’s over between us.” I watched his eyes widen in shock. “From this moment on, we’re strangers.” I had planned to quietly disappear, out of respect for Grandma Caldwell, but he’d already stomped past every one of my boundaries. “My guilt isn’t enough for you? Do you want me to kneel and beg?” He grabbed my wrist, his gaze frigid. “Know your place, Willow.” I yanked my hand free, intent on gathering Mom’s belongings. But Skylar sat up from the couch, feigning concern as she eyed the urn. “Oh, dear, Auntie’s gone? So sorry, Willow… Asher, I just love that urn. My dog died yesterday. Could Willow put my dog in it for me?” Asher actually reached for it. “Give it! It’s perfect for a mutt!” Seeing Mom’s urn about to be ripped from me, I bit down hard on his wrist. The metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth. He roared, lashing out with a furious backhand. “Bitch!” As I fell, my only thought was to shield the urn, clutching it tight against my chest. My head, though, slammed directly into the sharp corner of the table. “Asher!” Skylar anxiously took Asher’s hand, examining it, then turned a disapproving gaze on me. “Willow, why would you bite Asher? He cares about you so much. It’s just an urn. Aren’t you worried he won’t get Auntie something better later?” Still cradling Mom’s ashes, I struggled to my feet. Blood streamed down my face, dripping onto the urn. Mom had loved me fiercely in life. But the one she loved most was Asher, standing right there. In that moment, something inside me snapped. “You care about me? Then you replace the bride at my wedding and drive my mother to her grave? Asher! Don’t you dare forget what Mom did for you! Who ran into that blazing inferno, her face disfigured by the flames, to pull out a seven-year-old you? Now all I want is to leave. Get out of my way!” “Enough!” Asher strode forward, his hand seizing my throat, slamming me against the wall. A crushing sense of suffocation stole my breath, but what truly choked me was Asher’s snarled reply. “Willow!” His grip tightened, his features contorted into a monstrous mask of rage. “How long are you going to hold this tired old favor over my head? Isn’t this life you have enough for you?!” Asher’s final words were gritted out, each syllable laced with venom: “How dare you even utter the word ‘leave’! I’ve already said I’m guilty. Don’t push your luck!” My face was turning purple from the lack of air, tears mingled with blood streaming down. I couldn’t raise my hands to fight back. Because I was terrified that if I let go, Mom’s urn would crash to the floor. Mom had suffered enough in life. In death, I wouldn’t let her feel any more pain. Just as I felt consciousness fading, Skylar approached. She didn’t stop him, only whined pitifully: “Willow, Asher still loves you. He’s marrying me because everyone thinks we’re a better match, and our union will boost the company’s stock price. But Asher told me that privately, you’ll always be Mrs. Caldwell. Asher’s doing all this, why can’t you and Auntie understand and be more considerate? Why focus on mere appearances?” As her words hung in the air, I felt Asher’s fury surge, escalating rapidly. “Willow! Why can’t you be considerate like Skylar? Why?!” His grip was so powerful, his knuckles turned stark white. “Apologize to Skylar, and I promise you, outside of public appearances, you’ll always be Mrs. Caldwell.” Just as I was on the brink of blacking out, Asher released me. He loomed over me, his gaze a mix of pity, condescension, and cold command. Rage, raw and incandescent, instantly shattered my composure, erupting from every cell in my body. “Asher! I said it! I don’t want to be Mrs. Caldwell!” I lunged into the kitchen, snatched up a carving knife, and lunged at them. “I just wanted to leave before, but now? Now I want you dead!” Just as I was about to strike, Asher exploded in a fresh burst of fury at my actions. He shielded Skylar with one arm, then lashed out, kicking me violently in the stomach. Right where his child, the one he didn’t know about, was growing. The unexpected kick sent me flying back, slamming into a bookshelf. In that instant, an agonizing, bone-deep pain tore through my abdomen. Crimson blood began to flow between my legs. My world instantly turned crimson. I collapsed into the spreading pool of blood, my entire body racked with pain, feeling as though every bone had shattered. But the worst pain was in my belly, the very place where a tiny life had been stirring. A metallic taste filled my mouth as tears blurred my vision. Clutching Mom’s urn, I gazed at Asher, who stood coldly in the distance. I tried to stand, but my body wouldn’t obey. My trembling hand moved to my stomach. Suddenly, a large mouthful of blood gushed out. Skylar gasped, her delicate face paling as she clung desperately to Asher’s arm. “Willow! What are you faking now? I barely touched you! Don’t act like you’re dying!” Asher stood above it all, his face dark and brooding. He irritably pulled out a tissue and began wiping his shoe. Skylar’s eyes welled up, glistening with tears, as she looked at me with feigned innocence: “Asher! Could she be pregnant? Look at all that blood… it’s disgusting, ugh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, bending over in a performative retch. Her act was painfully obvious, yet Asher, suddenly anxious, gently patted her shoulder. “Disgusting? Then don’t look.” He turned to me, his disgust equally blatant. “How could she be pregnant? If she really was… Hmph! She’d be screaming it from the rooftops, using it as leverage for a better life.” Asher sneered, his contempt for me filling the entire room. “That woman... she’s got layers of scheming!” The words were barely out when a searing cramp twisted my gut—a pain that drilled into my skin, pierced my bones, and seared my very soul. It felt as if every nerve ending in my body was being gripped by tiny, furious hands. The baby in my belly was screaming its rage. My insides felt like they were being ripped apart. “Cough! Cough! Cough!” I coughed violently, then, my mouth full of blood, I began to laugh, a ragged, broken sound. “Ha-ha.” “Asher! Look... what’s this?” My hand trembling, I reached into my pocket, my fingers, stained with the blood that was once my baby, clutched the pregnancy report. I pulled it out, holding it towards Asher. “Read this, then I’ll leave! I wish you both forever!” Asher! Didn’t you always want a child? Then before I leave, I’ll use this pregnancy report, like a blade, to pierce his heart. Let you know that from that kick you just delivered, your line, the Caldwell name, is doomed to end. “Willow! I don’t have time for your games!” Asher snatched the report, but didn’t even glance at it. Instead, his face a mask of fury, he crumpled it into a tight ball. And hurled it viciously into the spreading pool of my blood. “Are you deaf?! I said I’m losing my patience! Losing it!” He seized my long hair, yanking my head back, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I told you to give me the urn! I told you to apologize to Skylar! You’re still Mrs. Caldwell! Do you understand?!” A tearing pain ripped through my scalp. I bit down hard on my lip, drawing blood, refusing to utter a sound. My bloodshot eyes locked onto Asher’s. Asher looked at the urn clutched in my arms, veins bulging in his neck. “Why are you still holding it?! She’s dead! How long are you going to use her to threaten me?! Give it to me! Give it to me!” Asher ripped the urn from my grasp. Both of us screamed at the same time. One, a raw, primal rage; the other, a hysterical, desolate grief. My nails had torn Asher’s skin. He glanced at his hand, then his eyes turned suddenly, chillingly sinister. “Fine then! Take it!” He roared, then, as my bloodshot eyes widened in horror, he violently ripped open the urn’s lid and flung its contents towards the ceiling. “Mom!” I shrieked, lunging forward, desperate to catch the scattering ashes. But my head was brutally forced down by Asher, ground against the floor. “Let me go! I can’t let Mom...” Asher slapped me hard across the face, his voice a furious snarl: “Shut up! Stop faking it! You just want to use your mother’s death to extort more from me, don’t you? Asher! I’ll give you what you want!” He yanked my head to his level, then his other hand grabbed a handful of my mother’s ashes, violently smearing them across my face. “You loved that old hag so much, didn’t you? Then let her be a part of you now. Scream! Why aren’t you screaming?!” Asher gripped my head, violently slamming it against the floor. “You won’t even scream! How dare you say you love her! Scream! Let me see your devotion! Otherwise, you won’t be Mrs. Caldwell anymore!” I bit down hard, clenching my jaw, refusing to comply. But Asher kept slapping me, again and again, trying to force my mouth open. Finally, he grabbed my jaw, top and bottom, attempting to pry my mouth open with brute force. Asher’s chest heaved, his voice a thunderous roar: “Do it! If you don’t want this desecration, apologize to Skylar right now! Then beg me! Say you don’t want to leave, that you want to stay and be Mrs. Caldwell!” Pain! Excruciating pain tore at the corners of my mouth. It felt like they were ripping apart, my entire head threatening to split in two by Asher’s hands. But I stared at Asher, my bloodshot eyes, webbed with broken capillaries, locked onto him. Perhaps realizing I was truly fading, a flicker of clarity crossed Asher’s eyes. He finally released me. Gasping for air, I scrambled to the floor, reaching out to gather my mother’s ashes. Suddenly, Skylar threw open all the windows. “Asher, it’s so stuffy in here. Your lungs aren’t good; I’ll air it out for you.” As Skylar spoke, she also cranked up the central air conditioning to full blast. “No!” Ignoring the agonizing pain throughout my body, I lunged forward. But in an instant, the fierce draft from the top-floor windows combined with the powerful AC—in a mere blink—scattered my mother’s ashes. Only a few lingering bone fragments remained, skittering across the floor in the breeze. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Willow! I was just worried about Asher’s lungs, so I opened the windows. I didn’t mean to... Auntie...” She walked over, deliberately stepping on a bone fragment of my mother’s, then blinked, feigning innocence and pity. “Oops, sorry, I just scattered Auntie’s remains.” My vision turned crimson with rage. I lunged, my hands clamping around Skylar’s throat. “I’ll kill you!” I squeezed, utterly determined to drag her down with me. But Asher, who cherished her so, wouldn’t let me have my wish. Once more, I fell, landing back in that pool of blood. “Willow! I’ve had it with you! Do you really not want this Mrs. Caldwell title anymore?!” Asher roared, like a lion whose mane had been set aflame—ferocious, cruel. “If you don’t want it, then why don’t you just get out?!” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Are you deaf to reason? I am trying to leave. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me!” Asher started to lunge, but Skylar held him back. He settled for pointing at me, bellowing: “Willow! How dare you leave! What gives you the right?! If you were going to leave, why did you cling to my side like a dog all these years? Are you a masochist? Isn’t it just money you want?! When your mother saved me back then, wasn’t it because she knew I was a Caldwell, hoping to trade her worthless life for my guilt? She succeeded. Everyone demanded I treat you well. What right do you have to leave now?” Asher was in a blind rage, roaring. His eyes brimmed with disbelief. He couldn’t fathom that I would reject the esteemed Mrs. Caldwell title, when I had loved him so much before. Asher’s face was as dark as a storm cloud. Even when Skylar tried to calm him down, urging him to leave first, he remained in a furious frenzy. It was only when Skylar complained of a sore throat and difficulty breathing that he regained some semblance of control, promising to rush her to the hospital. And I, lying in the pool of my own blood, my body feeling as if countless bones were broken. The bleeding from below didn’t stop. He remained oblivious. Before leaving, he turned, his voice chillingly cold: “Don’t even think about going to my grandma, or else…” As the door slammed shut, he didn’t look back. “Don’t blame me for cutting off our last ties!” But I was too weak to stand, only able to watch them leave with a bitter, mirthless laugh. After their footsteps faded, I trembled as I gathered my mother’s bone fragments, then collapsed, weeping uncontrollably. The wind swept in through the open windows. The blood-soaked pregnancy report, crumpled and discarded, was inexplicably blown to my feet. My hand shook as I reached for it, heavy... How could the wind have moved something so weighted? Soon, my consciousness began to blur, my eyelids growing heavy. I slowly collapsed into the spreading blood, feeling my heartbeat slow, becoming fainter with each beat. Life was rapidly draining away. Before death claimed me, I managed to dial a number. Moments later, I heard the faint click of the fingerprint lock on the door. I thought it was Asher, but my eyelids, too heavy to resist, slowly closed. Yet, in my final moments, I heard... A phone ringing, drawing closer. And I saw her. Grandma Caldwell herself, the matriarch who, though she often sought solace in prayer for the family’s legacy, held absolute power over the Caldwell name, appeared before me. “...Willow!” In that instant, the prayer beads in Grandma Caldwell’s hand snapped. One by one, they scattered, rolling into the pool of blood beneath me—the blood that carried all the Caldwell family’s lost hopes. Why, just before I died, did I have to see her?
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