Funeral for Our Love

"My son bought this house. He can let whoever he wants live here. Who are you to interfere?"

I was taken aback, only then realizing my mother-in-law, Laura Barker, was there.

She glanced at me impatiently and stepped protectively in front of Natalie. "Besides, Natalie isn't an outsider. She's pregnant. She's the most precious person in the Collins family!"

I shuddered at her words.

When I looked at Michael again, he deliberately avoided my eyes and said, "Honey, you know Mom has always wanted a grandchild. But after all these years… the crib is still empty."

Natalie spoke timidly then. "Josephine, please don't blame Mike. This is my fault. I mixed up my birth control pills with my vitamins and got pregnant by accident. If this makes you uncomfortable, I can go to the hospital right now and get an abortion…"

Her eyes reddened as she pretended to stand.

Laura exploded. She rushed over and slapped me across the face, hard.

"Josephine Schofield, are you trying to end our family name with Michael? I'm warning you. If anything happens to this baby, I won't let you get away with it!"

My ears rang as I covered my face, stunned.

Turning my head to the side, I saw three sets of dinnerware on the dining table.

Laura noticed and said righteously, "I didn't know you were coming back. I only prepared lunch for three people."

I understood the message. Biting my lip, I turned and left.

Laura slammed the door behind me. Even then, I could still hear her raised voice inside.

"Michael, you're a billionaire. You should've divorced that barren excuse for a wife years ago! She's way out of your league and wasting your time!"

I leaned against the door and laughed.

Back then, to support Michael's startup, I interned at the hospital by day and bused dishes at restaurants for extra money.

Every cent I earned went to him.

What was ridiculous was that no matter how much Laura humiliated me, Michael never defended me once.

The sting on my cheek hadn't faded, but all I felt inside was nothing but numbness.

Just then, my phone vibrated with a message from my colleague. "Josephine, I got Natalie's medical records from the CDC."

My brow furrowed, and I immediately tapped on the file. Even though I had expected it, the sheer amount of data still stunned me.

She was infected with late-stage AIDS and tertiary syphilis, which I already knew. What I hadn't anticipated was that she carried more than a dozen additional infectious diseases.

Most of the viruses were transmitted through blood or sexual contact. But close daily contact, shared towels or utensils, or broken skin could all pose risks.

Fortunately, that wasn't my concern anymore. After all, I wasn't the one who'd be suffering.

I applied for long-term leave with the hospital director, packed my bags, and booked a flight to a seaside town I'd always wanted to visit.

On the 20th day after leaving, Michael called.

"Josephine, where have you been? Even sulking has its limits."

When I didn't answer, he softened his tone. "Don't take what my mom said to heart. She was just anxious for a grandchild."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Honey, Natalie and I have talked it through. Once she gives birth, I'll give her some money and send her abroad. She won't come back."