I shook my head in disbelief, stepping back a few paces. I removed the backpack from my shoulders and carefully took out my mother-in-law's urn.
"What?! Could she really be dead?" someone typed in the comments.
"It doesn't seem like she's faking..."
"Is she carrying an urn to ruin my little angel's love show? Why doesn't she just die already?"
"Hold on, folks, I'm heading over now. I want to see what tricks this vile woman is trying to pull!"
As I held up the urn, the staff anxiously looked at the director, who wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was no longer something he could stop even if he wanted to.
Jeff stared in disbelief at the photo on the urn, reaching out as if to touch it but then pulling back.
I trembled, clutching the urn tightly. My voice quivered as I said, "I didn't lie to you. Mom... Mom passed away that rainy night..."
Tears fell onto the urn, one after another, as I hugged it tightly. I didn't force Jeff into marriage, nor did I curse his mother's death.
I grew up without a mother. My father, a compulsive gambler, made beating me a daily routine.