Drunk on Regret

I tried explaining, but it only made Marcus angrier.

"Another urn story, Claire? If you're going to lie, at least make it believable! Since you insist this is an urn..."

He grabbed my mom's urn and smashed it on the ground. "Let's see what's really in here!"

The broken shards mixed with pool water, washing away the ashes. I fell to my knees, frantically trying to save what remained of the ashes, but there was nothing left.

"Mom, how could this happen?" I broke down sobbing. My grief seemed to catch Marcus off guard.

That was when Hannah, still sitting on the ground, spoke up with feigned hurt. "Claire, you don't need to put on such a show just to avoid apologizing to me. Your mother has professional caregivers watching her. How could she suddenly die?"

Marcus snapped back to attention, looking at me with even more disgust. "Claire, you're getting more unreasonable by the day! Hannah, let's go. If she wants to put on a show, let her do it by herself!"

…

Over the next few days, I handled my mom's funeral alone. All our mutual friends tactfully avoided asking about Marcus' whereabouts. He had angrily told off everyone who called asking about my mom's death.

As if to spite me, he posted intimate photos with Hannah all over social media.

Twenty-five days before I was supposed to leave for the research program, I was walking in a daze and did not notice a car speeding toward me. After getting hit, I acted on my survival instincts and immediately called Marcus for help.

"Claire, you've got some nerve calling me. Are you still playing this game? Was it fun making all my friends attend a fake funeral?"

Even now, he did not believe my mom had died.

I had no strength to explain further and only managed to rasp, "Help... Help me, Marcus. I've been in an accident..."

That familiar warm flow came again, and a terrible thought crossed my mind.

"What? I'm coming right over. Where are you?"

Marcus was about to get up when he heard Hannah's pitiful voice. "Mark, Claire wouldn't be calling on purpose to stop you from taking me to my prenatal appointment, would she?"

Marcus paused, his voice clearly laced with anger. "Claire, stop this nonsense!"

…

When I woke up again, I was greeted by a nurse with a regretful expression. "Ms. Bennett, I'm sorry. We couldn't save your baby."

Even though I had sensed it, I was still devastated.

I had supported Marcus from obscurity to his current success, but it meant nothing compared to Hannah's single complaint. My mom had spent all her savings to support him, only to have him smash her urn, thinking it was a joke. Even our unborn child never got the chance to be born.

Looking at Marcus' various affectionate photos with Hannah, I called my lawyer, Nathan Brooks. "I need you to draft a divorce agreement."