His mother spent years trying to seek justice. But when all her efforts failed, she lost her mind and took her own life.
Back then, I was nine years old, celebrating my birthday, while Elijah had been losing his entire family.
Years later, when I was about to graduate from college, my father discovered that my boyfriend was Elijah.
"Break up with him immediately! If you don’t, I’ll send you away!"
"I’m telling you now—you will marry into the Jones family!"
That was the first time I ever fought with my father.
It was also the first time I learned the truth about our families' past.
A huge sense of guilt over whelmed me.
How could I face Elijah, knowing what my father had done?
He had always been so proud, standing tall even in his threadbare shirts.
We had been together for four years. I had witnessed firsthand how hard he fought to carve out a future for himself, how much suffering he had endured.
And yet, the man who had taken everything from him was my father.
The day I decided to end things, I sat in his newly purchased car.
He was excitedly talking about our future—our home, our wedding—until I cut him off with a single sentence.
"We should break up."
The car screeched to a halt.