Chapter 4

I threw the cup in my hand at the two of them before I could stop myself.

The question tore out of me, almost broken.

"Sylvester, why are you doing this to me?"

Maisie flinched and ducked behind him with a scream.

The cup shattered against the wall, fragments scattering across the floor.

My mother and my mother-in-law heard the noise and came rushing out of their rooms.

"Joyce, what are you throwing a fit about now?"

I tried to lunge forward.

But Sylvester seized my wrist and forced me down against the sofa.

My mother pinned my legs.

My mother-in-law swept away everything within reach that could be picked up.

The three of them moved in perfect coordination.

As if I really were a lunatic who might hurt someone at any moment.

"Let go of me, I'm not crazy."

"They're the ones who held each other, they're the ones who betrayed me!"

I struggled without stopping, screaming until my voice broke.

Maisie clutched her chest and looked at me with fear all over her face.

"Sylvester, she's already showing the early signs of a psychotic break."

"Auditory hallucinations, delusions, loss of emotional control, and serious aggressive behavior."

"If we don't increase the intensity of treatment, something's going to happen sooner or later."

Sylvester's grip on my hands tightened all at once.

"Then what do we do?"

Maisie didn't answer right away.

She turned and walked into the bedroom.

When she came back out, there was a white urn cradled in her arms.

"The reason she can't move past it is because she's still keeping these things."

"Only by smashing the urn with her own hands, cutting the tie to the past, can she truly start a new life."

The living room went quiet.

Sylvester's face changed.

"No. That's our child."

Maisie's eyes reddened slightly.

"Sylvester, you're going soft again, both of you."

"Every time the treatment reaches the critical point, you can't bear to keep going."

"That's why her illness keeps getting worse."

My mother-in-law glanced at the urn and said through gritted teeth.

"The old has to go before the new can come."

"There'll be more children in the future anyway."

My mother crouched down beside me too.

"Joyce, be good. Once it's smashed, you'll stop dwelling on it."

"Everyone's doing this for your own good."

I stared at all of them, unable to believe it.

Inside that box were the ashes of my and Sylvester's first child.

That keepsake pendant, too, was one Sylvester had gone to the temple himself to pray for.

That day he had placed it in my palm and pressed it carefully against my belly.

"This is our first child, our treasure."

"When he's born, I'll put this pendant on him with my own hands, to bless him with a long life."

But we never got to see our child born.

Because of Sylvester's carelessness, he died inside me.

And now the child's own father wanted to erase the last trace of his existence with his own hands.

I stared hard at Maisie, tears of blood in my eyes.

"Give my child back to me."

Maisie ignored me, turned, and fetched a hammer.

Sylvester's eyes flinched away, but he still pushed the hammer into my hand.

"He's already dead."

"The living always have to look forward."

The cold handle pressed against my palm.

It was as though I were back at the hospital again.

The doctor handing me that small urn.

Sylvester holding me in the hospital corridor, crying so hard he couldn't stand.

Back then, he had said he would remember our child together with me.

But now he only held my shoulders down and coaxed me in a low voice.

"Joyce, smash it."

"We'll have more children later."

With that, Sylvester reached out and gripped my wrist, trying to force me to raise the hammer.

I fought with everything I had.

The hammer fell to the floor.

I threw myself forward to grab the urn back.

But Maisie snatched it into her arms first.

In the struggle, the balcony door was knocked open.

The urn slipped from her arms.

Gray-white powder scattered across the balcony.

"No!"

I dropped to my knees, scrambling to scoop it up with both hands.

But a faint breeze brushed past my face.

The ashes lifted from between my fingers, drifted over the railing, and were gone into the night in an instant.

"Baby……"

My child was gone.

This time, even the trace that he had once existed was gone.

I stared blankly at that gray-white powder drifting away.

The next second, my palms braced against the railing.

Behind me came my mother's scream.

Sylvester was lunging toward me.

I closed my eyes and, chasing after my child, jumped.

The wind howled past my ears.

Sylvester's anguished cry came from above.

"Joyce!"