I brushed away tears and picked up the card he'd thrown. Eight years ago, I'd moved to this unfamiliar city for him, supporting him with all my savings, driven by love and the hope of paying for my mom's treatments. Now, love was gone and so was my mom. I had no reason to stay. There was nothing left for me here.
***
With a simple wrap on my injured foot, I went to register my mother's passing. My mother, once so full of life, was now reduced to a slip of paper, pressing on me like a weight I could barely hold. After scheduling her cremation tomorrow, I returned to sort through her belongings, my heart breaking with each piece.
Late in the evening, at the bottom of a box, I stumbled on a rough sketch of a wedding venue—one Mark had once made. I froze, remembering that early year we were together, clinging to each other with a promise that someday, he'd make something of himself.
He had held my hand in front of my mom and vowed, "Rachel, one day I will succeed. I'll give you the grandest wedding. I'll use everything I have to make up for every struggle you have been through all these years."