"Paul, please… can you put away all these photos of the child? They scare me too much…"
Hailee’s plea made my chest tighten.
I gripped the phone until my knuckles whitened, my voice trembling. "Photos of the child? Where are you right now?"
Paul’s voice came back, edged with frustration.
"Where do you think? We’re at home! Because of you, the place is surrounded by insane netizens. If we’re not here, where else would we be?"
Then came the sharp, sudden crash of breaking glass from the other end. "Paul, the photo frame just fell by itself… I swear it wasn’t me…"
"It’s fine, it’s fine. She’s already gone. A photo frame won’t bring her back. Hailee, don’t be frightened…"
My legs buckled, and I clung to the doorframe to keep from collapsing.
From the other end of the line came Hailee’s syrupy, teasing voice once more.
I ended the call and tore home like a madwoman.
I had pictured thousands of possible, unforgivable scenes in my mind. Yet, the moment I pushed open the door, my chest still caved in completely.
Every one of my daughter’s photo frames lay shattered, her pictures strewn in chaos across the floor.
The grand family portrait in the living room was hidden under a thick black cloth, its presence smothered.
In my daughter’s bedroom, Hailee was digging through drawers, flinging their contents to the floor as she complained.
"Paul, why did your daughter have such outdated anime? She’s so young and already has awful taste. This is all garbage!"
Paul’s voice came from the kitchen, gentle yet dismissive as he tended to the stove.
"If you don’t like it, throw it away. From now on, that room is yours to handle…"
A dizzy spell gripped me, and I clenched my fists so hard my nails broke skin. The sharp pain was the only thing keeping me grounded.
With all my strength, I slammed the door and charged toward my daughter’s room.
The loud noise instantly caught Hailee and Paul’s attention.
Hailee turned just as I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out of the room.
Then I slapped her hard.
“You filthy bitch! Do you think you have the right to enter my daughter’s room whenever you want?”
Hailee froze from the blow, but one slap wouldn’t satisfy me.
I fixed my gaze on her and raised my hand again.
Before it fell, Paul grabbed my wrist and, gathering all his force, kicked me hard in the stomach.
The searing pain forced me to curl into a trembling ball before I collapsed to the floor.
My back slammed hard against the corner of a table, and warm blood trickled slowly down my spine.
Paul gently stroked Hailee’s cheek with one hand, then stormed forward, bent down sharply, and grabbed me by the collar.
Bloodshot eyes blazing, he roared, “Claire! What the hell is wrong with you? You posted those videos online and caused so much trouble for Hailee, and I haven’t even made you apologize! Instead, you’re hitting people? Where are your manners?”
Two hot tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.
Meeting his fierce gaze, I pointed toward my daughter’s room, my voice trembling as I said, “Paul, our daughter just passed away, and you let this woman trample over her belongings. Do you even deserve to be called a father? Seeing your daughter’s photos crushed beneath that woman’s feet, don’t you feel even a flicker of sadness or guilt?”
An unreadable emotion flickered in Paul’s gaze.
He turned toward the shoe-stained photos and dropped into a heavy silence.
