Chapter 3
1069 Words
Early the next morning, I went alone to the crematorium on the outskirts of town. The sky hung low and gray, with thin rain drifting down like threads. When the staff handed me two small urn bags, their eyes carried a quiet, restrained pity.
"Ms. Sanders, our condolences."
I took them. They were so light they barely registered in my hands. My children. They had been inside me for six months, never once seeing the world, their breath taken by smoke before they even had the chance to arrive.
Carefully, I placed the urn bags into my handbag. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Jack's name lit up the screen.
I answered.
"Natalie, where did you go so early?" Jack's voice came through, gentle but edged with disapproval. "It's raining out. You're pregnant. What are you doing running around like this? I was worried. And Rosie had nightmares all night. She wants your seafood soup, and honestly, I'm craving it too."
I stared at the faint smoke rising from the crematorium chimney in the distance. "I'm outside."
There was a brief silence on the line, then Jack's tone turned weary, almost lecturing. "Natalie, are you being jealous again? Behave yourself. Stop acting like you're competing for attention. You're my wife. She's just a sick young woman who needs looking after."
"You're perfectly fine, aren't you? Why are you still fixating on the fire? It only makes you seem petty and small-minded."
"Do you even realize Rosie didn't sleep all night because of nightmares? She's not well and needs proper nutrition. Do me this favor, alright? As my wife, go get some fresh seafood and stop making things difficult."
I listened to him in silence. "I don't have time."
The line went dead for a beat, then Jack snapped. "Natalie, enough of this. Rosie got scared because of me. I owe her this. As my wife, is it really such a big deal to help me out? Don't think I don't see through you. You're just jealous I saved her instead of you, aren't you?"
His voice carried that same patronizing certainty. "It was an emergency. You're a grown woman, Rosie is ill. Of course I chose her first. You're fine now, so why are you still harping on it? It only makes you look bitter and small-minded."
I stared down at the puddle at my feet, rain tapping its surface into widening ripples.
"You're right," I said softly.
Jack gave a short, satisfied laugh, assuming I had backed down. "That's better. Hurry back. I've got a meeting this afternoon. On your way, stop by the pharmacy and get some calming meds for Rosie. Don't forget. Love you."
He gave the instructions like I was hired help and hung up immediately. I put the phone away and walked into the funeral shop beside the crematorium. At the far end of the shelf, I picked out a refined wooden box, just the right size for two small urn bags.
By the time I got home with it, it was already noon. Pushing the door open, I was hit by a heavy wave of perfume. Rose sat on the sofa, scrolling through my tablet as she watched a show. She didn't even glance up when I entered.
"You're so late. I was starving," she said lightly, tossing the tablet onto the coffee table with a sharp clack.
I ignored her and headed straight for the guest room.
"Stop," Rose called out suddenly.
Her gaze locked onto the elegant wooden box in my arms, instantly lighting up. "What's that? It looks kind of antique."
She got up and walked over without hesitation, reaching for it. "Jack said I don't have anywhere to store my calming meds, and this fits perfectly. Give it to me."
I shifted away from her hand, my eyes turning cold. "Don't touch it."
Rose's hand froze in midair, her expression turning sour at once. "Natalie, who are you trying to act all high and mighty for? Jack even gave me the master bedroom, and you're still clinging to some useless box?"
Just then, the front door opened and Jack came in with a takeout bag. Taking in the tense scene, he set the food down and walked over quickly.
"What's going on?" he asked, stepping between us and frowning at me.
"Jack, I liked the box in Natalie's hands and wanted to use it for my medicine," Rose said pitifully, grabbing his sleeve. "But she wouldn't give it to me and even snapped at me."
Jack's eyes fell on the wooden box in my hands. It was a deep red velvet case, finely made and unmistakably elegant. He frowned and instinctively reached out. "Natalie, be sensible. Rosie has her eye on that box. Just treat it like you're helping her feel better."
I held it tight against my chest, my knuckles going pale from the pressure. "It's mine. I'm not giving it to her."
Jack's patience finally snapped, though he still wore that familiar "I'm doing this for you" expression.
"Natalie, have I been too lenient with you lately? I asked you to buy groceries and cook, and you go out shopping just to bring back some box instead. Now Rosie only wants something to store her medication and you're fighting her over it? Are you trying to tear this family apart?"
He stepped in closer, his voice turning sharp and final. "Tomorrow you'll buy ten of the same ones. Be good. Don't make me lose face over something this small."
I took a step back, a tearing pain lancing through my calf from the sudden movement.
"No matter what you give me, you're not getting this," I said, locking eyes with him, each word steady and cold.
Jack was fully provoked by my reaction. To him, I was just being irrational, openly challenging his control.
"You're insane!" he suddenly grabbed the edge of the box and pulled hard.
"Let go!" I held on with everything I had.
The difference in strength was overwhelming. With an impatient shove, Jack sent me reeling backward. I lost my footing and slammed into the marble coffee table behind me. My waist struck the hard edge, and the wound on my calf split open again.
Thick bandages were quickly soaked through, blood seeping down my trousers onto the pale carpet. The wooden box slipped from my hands and ended up in Jack's grip.
- Writer
