I didn't know if it was because the wound hurt too much, but tears streamed from my eyes.
I had suffered a disaster out of nowhere, yet he only stood up for Eden.
If I had died at the hands of the murderer today, would he still think it was what I deserved?
The doctor said my wound was too deep, and the baby couldn't be saved.
I would need to stay in the hospital for at least another two months to recover.
I lowered my gaze, understanding clearly.
It was already a stroke of luck to have survived. How could I expect to keep the child?
Tears fell onto the blanket as my heart twisted in pain.
Mom couldn't protect you.
Just like Jone said, I was the fake daughter who stole someone else's identity. How could I deserve happiness?
I tried calling my parents, but no one answered.
Before Jone left, he told me that Eden had already been brought home.
Of course, no one cared whether I lived or died now.
So many years of familial ties were severed by a change in identity.
I was no longer myself.
I was like a clown in a cage, toyed with by them.
Eden had long told Jone about her identity.
Jone had only been with me to make my loss more painful now.