Chapter 2

Strong?

What a joke!

My dad died of liver failure after participating in a clinical trial to help Julian develop a new drug.

To keep him from feeling guilty, I forced myself to handle my father's funeral arrangements alone, without shedding a single tear.

When my mom was in the final stages of lung cancer, he gave the only life-saving imported drug to Tiffany's cat.

Before she passed, my mother gripped my hand and whispered, “Julian...might have his own burdens. Don't resent him..."

My throat closed. My eyes burned.

I swallowed every tear.

But all that pain I carried, all the humiliation I endured, all the tears I never cried...

In his eyes, they were just reasons for me to be "strong"?

I laughed, my whole body trembling. "Julian, is Tiffany's mood more important than my daughter's ashes?"

"Can't you stop making such a big deal out of it? She didn't mean it."

It was always the same. I was always the one at fault.

It was just like before: I simply pointed out that she was giving a patient the wrong medication.

Furious at my defiance, Julian locked me in the basement for a year.

"Audrey, it's been a year. Have you learned your lesson?"

When Julian opened the basement door again, the outside light cut into my eyes.

Tiffany, visibly pregnant, walked over, pretending to help me. "Be careful, Audrey. The basement's damp, don't fall."

Fall?

I almost laughed.

The day he locked me in, a year ago, our daughter had just died.

I had knelt then, clutching Julian's pant leg, my forehead bleeding from begging against the floor. "Please, save Lily! I swear I'll never oppose Tiffany again!"

He looked down at me, his eyes cold as a scalpel.

"Audrey, you're ill. How could Tiffany harm our child? You're the one who's lost your mind."

He held the trembling, sobbing Tiffany, his voice sickeningly gentle.

"Don't be afraid, I'll lock her up. No one will hurt you again."

I saw a tenderness in his eyes I'd never witnessed before, and my blood ran cold.

"Julian! My daughter is dead!!"

My response was the thud of a lock clicking shut.

To get out sooner and bury my daughter, I didn't cry or make a fuss.

But as my daughter's body began to decompose in the hospital morgue,

Tiffany, while I was asleep, had someone send the body directly to the crematorium.

I hammered on the door like a madwoman, my throat hoarse from screaming.

"Julian! That's your daughter! How could you let her be cremated without even a proper goodbye!!"

My palms bled from pounding, and what I got in return were rats, infected and scurrying, thrown in through the vent in the middle of the night.

They bit my feet, tore at my fingers.

I huddled in the corner, wounds infected and inflamed, feverishly ill.

"Is Audrey doing okay?"

Tiffany's voice pulled me back to reality.

I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, looked up at Julian, my voice hoarse.

"Where are Lily's ashes?"

No one answered.

My heart sank. I stumbled toward the nursery on the second floor,

The room I had decorated myself when I was pregnant.

The closer I got, the more my heart ached.

But the moment I pushed open the door, I froze.

The room was filled with lingerie, whips, and handcuffs.

The walls were covered with nude oil paintings of Tiffany.

My fingers dug into the door frame, knuckles white.

Julian's footsteps sounded behind me, his tone impatient.

"I didn't let you out to cause trouble."

"The dead cannot return; can't you just move on?"

"No!"

I spun around and slapped him across the face.

"Is this filthy place how you explain yourself to our daughter?! Julian, do you deserve to be a father?!"

"I just want to know, where are her ashes?"

When I mentioned our daughter, his eyes darted away.

"Tiffany's pregnant and emotionally unstable, so I painted some pictures to cheer her up..."

"She has prenatal depression, I couldn't help it."

"Couldn't help it?"

When Tiffany moved into my house, neighbors whispered and pointed, but he pretended not to see, saying he couldn't help it.

Tiffany put peanut powder, which I am severely allergic to, in my soup; I went into shock and was rushed to the ER, but he turned a blind eye, saying he couldn't help it.

Tiffany caused our daughter's death, and he protected her, saying he couldn't help it.

I laughed, tears streaming down my face. "All these 'couldn't help it's almost killed me."

I stormed into the room, grabbed a bucket of paint, and hurled it at the paintings.

"Audrey, are you insane?! What has Tiffany ever done to you?!"

Julian grabbed my wrist, but suddenly froze.

Beneath my sleeve, my arms were covered in festering wounds.

"What... how did you get these? I explicitly ordered them to bring you food every day, to take good care of you..."

"I'm perfectly fine."

"You can just kneel here until you've truly reflected. Then you can come back."

Julian's cold voice snapped me back, and I pressed my lips together, unable to say a word.