Tears filled my eyes as I painstakingly gathered Ivy’s ashes into my hands. My heart was in shreds.
My poor Ivy. Why did she have to endure all this?
The father she had longed for before her death had trampled on her ashes while I stood by, powerless. I hated myself for failing her and for marrying such a monster.
After kneeling for so long that my legs went numb, I finally finished placing Ivy’s ashes properly. Just as I was about to catch my breath, Clinton and Gemma unexpectedly returned.
The moment they walked in, Clinton headed straight for lvy’s storage cabinet. It housed her beloved toys, collectibles, and the handmade clay figures she had poured her heart into.
Gemma pointed to a pair of finely crafted figurines and said, “Clinton, I want those.”
Without a second thought, Clinton handed them to her.
Those figurines were Ivy’s gift to me, something she had made herself. They were a symbol of love and a blessing for our family.
I
could still hear her soft voice echo in my ears as she said, I want Mommy and Daddy to always be this happy together.”
I snapped out of my thoughts and shouted, “Stop! Who said you could touch them?”
