Chapter 5

The next day, Lucas went to work early.

He had sobered up and probably didn't remember what he'd said last night.

Derek also left early in the morning. I heard him on the phone—something about borrowing money from a distant relative.

I was alone in the house.

It was very quiet.

My baby liked quiet.

I wiped every corner of the house, using my sleeves, using the hem of my clothes.

It wasn't very clean—there were streaks of water everywhere—but I did my best.

Then I opened the big wardrobe that smelled of mothballs.

I found the cream-colored professional suit I hadn't worn in a very, very long time.

Derek said this was my favorite outfit when I was a teacher.

It took great effort to squeeze into the slightly tight clothes.

The buttons were crooked, and the skirt had twisted to the side.

I sat at the vanity, imitating what I remembered Megan doing.

I picked up the lipstick, twisted it open, and faced myself in the mirror.

I wanted to draw pretty lips, but my hands wouldn't obey. I smeared red all around my mouth, looking like a little demon who had just eaten a dead child.

The person in the mirror looked so ridiculous, so ugly.

I found a piece of paper in the drawer—the paper I usually practiced writing on.

I picked up a pen and, using all my strength, wrote three words stroke by stroke.

"Lucas. Good."

After writing, I drew a crooked smiley face next to it.

I carefully folded the paper and placed it under my pillow.

After finishing all this, I brought over a chair, stepped onto it, and opened the door of the highest cabinet.

Derek hid his sleeping pills here.

He said he couldn't sleep at night and needed pills.

I took out the small white bottle.

I remembered the pills were bitter. I was afraid of bitter things.

But Lucas's words from last night kept echoing in my ears.

"If you were dead, I'd be free."

I wanted to be a good, obedient mommy.

I couldn't make my baby unhappy.

I twisted off the cap and poured the entire bottle of colorful little pills into my mouth.

There was no water. I just swallowed them dry.

The pills scraped down my throat, burning like fire, dry and painful.

I lay on the living room sofa—Lucas's favorite spot.

I held the family photo tightly against my chest. In the picture, I was smiling so gently. Lucas was still so small, perched on Derek's shoulders.

How wonderful I was back then.

The pills took effect quickly.

My stomach hurt so much, like countless needles stabbing me.

My head was so dizzy. The ceiling was spinning.

I wanted to vomit, wanted to scream.

But I held it in. I clamped my hand tightly over my mouth.

My baby liked quiet.

I couldn't disturb my baby.

I obediently closed my eyes and adjusted my position to look like I was sleeping.

The evening sunset streamed through the window, warm on my face.

I didn't feel so much pain anymore.

Lucas, Mommy listened.

Mommy is going to die now.

You'll be free.

I floated up.

My body became so light, so light, like a cloud.

I saw myself lying on the sofa, wearing that ridiculous professional suit, with messy lipstick smeared on my face, holding the family photo.

I looked so ugly.

I saw Lucas come home from work.

He was carrying a beautiful cake box, printed with the logo of Megan's favorite bakery.

He wanted to win back his girl.

"Mom, I'm home."

He called out like usual, changing his shoes as he came in.

No one answered from the living room.

He frowned, seeming a little impatient, probably thinking I was hiding in some corner playing hide-and-seek with him again.

He walked to the sofa and saw me.

He paused for a moment, then snorted with laughter.

"Mom, what cosplay are you doing today? Get up, you're scaring me."

He reached out to push my shoulder, his tone carrying a hint of helpless affection.

"Stop messing around. I bought cake..."

His words stopped halfway.

Because my body was already stiff and cold.