Hazel's POV
Hearing the pride in Colin’s voice made my heart clench hard, as if someone twisted it with their bare hands. The pain pulsed again and again.
I wiped the dirt from my face and pulled the tiny shards of glass embedded in my palm.
Just then, my old flip phone rang. When I saw the caller ID, I limped toward the elevator and headed downstairs.
“Hello, are you Ms. Hazel Reynolds?”
The driver waiting for me quickly opened the car door, gently taking the blue cloth bundle from my arms and placing it in the back seat.
“Miss, you’re hurt? Don’t move. I’ll bandage it for you.”
Since my husband passed away, no one had cared about my cuts or bruises.
Just last month, when Agnes wanted sturgeon for dinner, I injured my hand killing the fish.
While I searched for a bandage, she mocked me. “Isn’t it normal for a country woman to get a few cuts on her hands? What, a few days of city life made you delicate?”
Colin rummaged around impatiently. “She’s right. It’s just a scratch. No need for a bandage.”
But even when I pressed hard with toilet paper, the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. Thick drops hit the floor, staining the tiles I had just scrubbed to a shine.
Colette, fresh manicure and all, tossed the sturgeon into the trash with disgust. “It’s covered in your filthy blood. Totally inedible now. Sweetheart, Mom, there’s a new restaurant nearby. Let’s go. Let her scrub the floors clean. If she doesn’t, I’m throwing these boards out.”
Just like that, the three of them strutted out, leaving me alone pressing on the wound.
It took me half an hour for the bleeding to stop. Once I wrapped my hand in cloth, I crouched on the floor and cleaned the stains with cold water.
My vision blurred with tears, real tears I hadn’t shed in so long. As I sat on the leather seat of the car now, the driver handed me a tissue.
“Miss, here.”
I panicked and began scrubbing at the seat. “I’m so sorry. I dirtied your car. I’ll wipe it clean.”
He frowned slightly, gently taking the tissue and wiping my tears instead. “This is for your eyes.”
I thanked him softly.
Then the car began moving, streetlights and unfamiliar buildings flashing past outside the window.
Then, slowly, familiar scenery appeared.
“Miss, we’re almost there. If the air feels stuffy, I can roll down the window.”
A cool, damp breeze rushed in, stirring memories I had buried deep.
The house back in my hometown had been sold, so Colin was sure I had nowhere left to go. That was why he pushed me out so confidently, certain I’d come crawling back.
But he didn’t know that compared to that empty old house, this row of white buildings, now coming into view, was my real home.
The moment I stepped out of the car, familiar faces hurried toward me. They grabbed my hands, one after another, their warmth pouring into my heart. The wounds left by my son and his family suddenly felt a little less cold.
Just as I was about to greet them, my phone rang again. I checked the caller ID and saw it was my son.
I looked at the warm faces in front of me and then remembered his twisted expression as he drove me out with hateful words.
Without thinking twice, I hurled my heavy old phone into the green pond.
What now? Not even a day has passed, and he already wants me crawling back?
That hellhole, I would never step into it again.
