Chapter 3

Sarah lunged again, trying to get past Mark's protective stance. She didn't care about the consequences. All she wanted was to wipe the smirk off Jessica' s face.

"Get out of my way, Mark!" she screamed.

Mark' s face was a mask of rage. "I said, that's enough!" He shoved her again, harder this time.

Sarah lost her balance. Her back slammed into the sharp corner of the wooden coffee table. A blinding, white-hot pain shot through her abdomen. She gasped, doubling over as she crumpled to the floor. She felt a sickening warmth spread deep inside her. It wasn't just pain; it was the feeling of something tearing.

She looked down and saw a dark stain spreading on the front of her light-colored pants. Blood.

Mark stood over her, his chest heaving. He looked down at her with disgust, not a hint of concern in his eyes. "Look at you," he spat. "You've completely lost it. You've become a monster."

Jessica peeked out from behind him, her eyes wide with feigned fear. "Oh, Mark, she's crazy! You were right to leave her. Who knows what she' s capable of?"

Lying on the cold floor, with pain radiating from her core, Sarah started to laugh. It was a broken, hollow sound. "Two years, Mark," she said, her voice raspy. "For two years, I supported you. I paid our bills while you chased your 'dream.' I believed in you. I gave you everything."

"Shut up," he hissed.

"All for this," she continued, gesturing weakly towards Jessica. "All for a cheap lie and a piece of jewelry."

"I said, shut up!" He took a step forward and his foot connected with her ribs. The impact knocked the breath out of her.

Jessica clutched Mark' s arm. "Mark, we should call the police. Tell them she's unstable. We should make sure she never gets near you again."

"She can't hurt me," Mark sneered. He grabbed Sarah by the arm, his fingers digging into her skin, and started to drag her toward the door. "Get out of my house."

"This is my house too!" Sarah cried out, trying to wrench her arm free.

In the struggle, his arm swung out wildly and knocked against the small bookshelf by the door. The cardboard box-the one holding Liam's ashes-teetered on the edge for a moment before crashing to the floor. It burst open on impact.

A small cloud of fine, gray dust puffed into the air, then settled on the dark wood of the floor.

Mark froze, staring at the mess. He didn't understand what he was seeing. "Great," he snarled, his voice thick with frustration. "Now you're breaking my things. You can't even leave without destroying something, can you?"

Sarah stopped fighting. All the anger, all the pain, all the fight drained out of her. She stared at the scattered ashes of her son, a soft gray smear on the floor of the home where he should have grown up.

A strange sense of peace washed over her. The physical pain in her body faded to a dull throb. The emotional agony went quiet. It was over.

She looked up at Mark, her eyes vacant. "It's okay," she whispered, a faint, tired smile on her lips.

"I'm coming, Liam."

Mark stared at her, his face a mixture of confusion and anger. "What did you just say?" The words didn't make sense to him. "What are you talking about?"