CHAPTER TWO:KARA
1244 Words
Noah’s mother has never liked me. She has always been against his marriage to me, and she has never failed to make it known to me how much she despises me.
Now, she stands in front of me, a victorious glint in her eye which she tries to mask with her usual cold expression.
But I can see right through her.
She sighs, shaking her head in false pity. “Kara, dear, don’t make a scene.”
I stare at her, stunned. “A scene?”
Margaret’s lips tighten into a straight line. “Yes, a scene. He’s a child. He speaks from the heart. Maybe instead of trying to cause a scene, you should reflect on why he feels that way.”
The guests begin to murmur. I have no idea whether in agreement or in disagreement, but they’re watching the humiliation unfold like it’s a performance.
Noah and Vanessa have turned my own son against me.
Vanessa hums. “Children are smart. They know who really cares for them.”
My hands tighten on the wheels of my chair so hard, my knuckles have become white.
Seth is my son. He loves me. He has to love me.
But then, he looks at Noah, hesitating.
And Noah?
He just places a hand on Seth’s shoulder, nodding.
And Seth, my beautiful baby boy, turns to me, and lowering his eyes, he says, “I don’t want you anymore, mommy.”
My heart doesn’t just break—it shatters.
I forget how to breathe. How to move. How to act. How to be.
Vanessa is smirking.
Margaret is watching.
Noah is waiting.
And Seth?
My own son won’t even look at me.
I inhale sharply, straightening my back. And then I nod.
“You’re right,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t belong here.”
I start to turn my wheelchair, but Noah’s voice stops me. It’s cold. Harsh. Unkind.
“I want a divorce, Kara,” he says. “You’re useless to me in that wheelchair.”
Useless? After everything that Seth and I had been through, he was calling me useless. After I’d—
I don’t stop myself from blurting out the words, “I’m in this wheelchair because I saved you, Seth. Remember that?”
My chest heaves, moving up and down because of how hard I’m breathing. How hard I’m shaking. “I s–I saved you! You could’ve been the one in this condition. Or even worse, you could’ve died!”
I was yelling now, making a spectacle, but I didn't care.
A scene? I’d show them all a f*****g scene.
A rolled my wheelchair towards Noah, closer and closer, and he stepped back.
“Back off, Kara,” he warned.
“You’re one ungrateful bastard,” I seethe, and in my peripheral vision, I can see Vanessa cover Seth’s ears. Trying to what? Protect him from my words?
I don’t f*****g care anymore. “I’ve been there for you. When your own father denounced you as his own, I talked to him. Made him see reason. Made him believe that you had changed. I stood up for you even more than your own weakling of a mother ever could!”
I hear Margaret gasp behind me. Noah scowls at me. “I’m warning you, Kara. Leave. Now.”
I roll my wheelchair even closer. I have never felt so much anger in my heart. So much disgust.
So much pity for myself.
I lower my voice. “And the one time I need you to stand up for me, you abandon me. Toss me like I’m trash. Like I never mattered. Like you never cried in my arms.” I let out a sharp laugh. “I feel so sorry for you.”
It all happens so fast.
One second, Noah and I are glaring at each other, and the next, Noah reaches his hand out, pushing me with so much force that I tumble backward, landing on the ground.
Still in my wheelchair.
Everywhere is silent.
I keep my eyes on the ceiling, unable to move. Unable to do anything but let the tears flow.
And then Noah comes into view, and he’s looking down at me. “You feel sorry for me?” He scoffs. “I’m not the one in a wheelchair, Kara. You are. And you say you saved me? No, you didn’t. You’re so pathetic, you think just because my father favored you, you’re my f*****g savior.”
Noah lowers his voice, crouching beside me. “You’ve served your purpose, Kara. Now, I’m tossing you out like the f*****g useless bag of trash you are. Just like you said. Your own son doesn’t even want you anymore. So why don’t you just do us all a favor and get the f**k out of our lives?”
My ears ring.
My stomach twists.
I can’t breathe. Can’t stand up. I only blink hard, willing the tears to stop, but they don’t.
I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I try to stand up. Try to… I don’t know what the f**k I’m doing because I can’t do it.
“Just look at her,” I hear Vanessa murmur from somewhere. “She can’t even get back on that damn wheelchair. I bet she wishes she had brought her caregiver.”
I hear a laugh that sounds just like Margaret’s.
“Here, let me help you,” comes the voice of a stranger as I feel a presence beside me.
I don’t say anything. I let the stranger help me get back in my wheelchair while everybody else just stares at me.
“Thank you,” I say to the stranger, too embarrassed to even look at his face.
And when I’m completely seated in my wheelchair, I give them one last look.
Noah.
Vanessa.
Margaret.
My baby, Seth.
And then I wheel myself out of the room.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I just go. I ignore the call of the driver waiting for me when I get outside.
“Go home,” I snap at him, rolling my wheelchair farther and farther until I approach the express.
My head hurts. My hands hurt. My body hurts.
Everything hurts.
‘I want Vanessa to be my mommy.’
‘I don’t want you anymore, mommy.’
The words my own son said to me keep on ringing in my ears, pushing me. Driving me.
I deserve to die. I deserve to f*****g die. Of what use is my life if my own son doesn't need me anymore. If the only reason I was alive rejected me?
No use.
I am useless, just like Noah said. He had burned me with humiliation. Made sure everyone saw what he did to me. And, like my son, he had chosen another woman over me, announcing our divorce in front of everyone, not even in private.
Tears blurring my vision, I roll my wheelchair towards the half-busy road. I tell myself, “It is what I deserve.” I tell myself that it’s all for the best. I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m only finishing the job that had been left unfinished.
I’m in the middle of the road now, and I roll my wheelchair, adjusting it so I’m facing the road. Facing the car that’s speeding toward me.
Then I close my eyes, waiting for the impact.
And then—
Bang!
- Writer
