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Kelly was detained, and Henry was quickly arrested. Both were sentenced to prison. As the truth came to light, Mom resigned from her job.
From the moment she found out everything, she seemed to lose her mind.
She couldn’t stand to hear anything about the case. Any mention would send her into a frenzy, screaming and throwing things around the police station.
Eventually, she collapsed on the cold floor, completely drained.
When she woke, her memory seemed off.
Mom would mutter curses under her breath, “Yasmin, you brat. Why haven’t you come to see me? You’re nowhere near as thoughtful as Kelly. You never cared about me.”
Later, she would break down sobbing, “My poor daughter, how come you die in this horrible way? I didn’t even get to see you one last time.”
Then, she’d try calling me on her phone, but no one would answer.
At those times, she would come back to her senses and realize she had driven me to my death.
After several episodes like this, she resigned.
Back home, confronted by my empty room, she knelt on the floor, crying out, “I killed you, Yasmin. It’s all my fault. I deserve to die.
Take me with you. I don’t deserve to be a mother. Yasmin, I’m sorry. Please, can you come back?”
Her tears dropped onto the floor.
Standing behind her, I felt an odd sense of peace. I no longer needed. any apologies.
A week later, I was buried by the seaside, a place I had always wanted to visit.
At my grave, my mom placed flowers. She had aged significantly, her
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hair now streaked with white.
She stared blankly at the photo on my tombstone, taken on my coming–of–age ceremony. She had missed the event.
“I’m sorry, Yasmin. In the next life, let me be your mom again, okay? I’ll be there for you,” she said to my tombstone.
“No,” I said quietly.
I hoped my next life would be filled with love, not like the nightmare of these past twenty years. I was tired.
After the memorial, Mom walked out of the cemetery, looking utterly exhausted.
Three months later, they found her at home. She had taken her own life.
The mom I had always loved was gone. At that moment, I felt incredibly light.
A gentle breeze blew, dispersing what remained of my spirit in this
world.
“Goodbye, Mom,” I said.
