The Unmarked Grave

Three years ago, I packed my bags, divorced, severed all ties with that family, and fled the country. This year, on this solemn day of remembrance, I quietly returned home.

The cemetery was stiflingly silent. I walked to an inconspicuous little headstone and laid a small bouquet of white daisies on the grass.

This was my child's grave. Today marked three years since he left, and I had flown across oceans specifically to see him.

As I turned to leave, I unexpectedly ran into three people.

It was my brother, Tristan, whom I hadn't spoken to in three years, and my ex-husband, Garrison, who had hated me for just as long. Between them, they shielded my stepsister, Ramona.

They clearly hadn't expected to encounter me here; they all froze.

I twisted my lips into a self-mocking smile, intending to walk past them.

But my brother stepped forward, blocking my path, and loudly demanded how I dared show my face here to visit Mom's grave.

They all believed I had returned to pay my respects to our deceased mother.

In truth, I hadn't come back for any kind of reunion, and certainly not for her.

Ignoring his taunts, I continued on my way.

Tristans broad frame squarely blocked the path down the hill. He glared at me, his disgust unconcealed.

Cat got your tongue, Giselle? Tristans voice sharpened, echoing on the desolate mountain road.

Ramona tugged at Tristans sleeve, shaking her head gently. Tristan, dont push her.

Always the saint, always playing the part of understanding and considerate.

Garrison stood to the side, his dark, seemingly bottomless eyes fixed on my face. Three years apart, he was still forbiddingly stern, but his gaze, when it met mine, was as cold as if I were a complete stranger.

Go to Moms grave and kneel to apologize, Tristan insisted, unyielding. Ramonas leg is ruined because of you. Mom, in the afterlife, would never forgive you.

I stopped, meeting Tristans eyes directly. I didnt push her.

I had repeated that truth countless times, but no one had ever believed me.

Tristan let out a cold laugh. The stairwell camera was broken. It was just you and Ramona there. She fell, bleeding profusely, her leg shattered, and you didnt even call for an ambulance before running off. What else could that be but a guilty conscience?

I turned my head to look at Ramona.

She flinched, retreating timidly behind Garrison, dragging her slightly limping leg. Garrison instinctively shielded her, his brow furrowed deeply.

Giselle, drop that haughty act, Garrison finally spoke, his voice cutting like an ice blade through the air.

I didn't retort. I just felt tired, so tired even breathing was a struggle. That day, I had bled so much, a stream running down my thigh to my ankle. The agonizing cramps in my abdomen shredded my sanity; all I could think about was saving my child. I couldn't spare a thought for Ramona, who had fallen down the stairs. I had no time to defend myself.

Move aside, Im going down the mountain, I said, pulling my trench coat tighter.

Rain began to fall, fine streaks chilling my face.

Tristan was about to erupt again, but Garrison stopped him. The paperwork isnt finished, Garrison stated, fixing his gaze on me. The transfer documents for the downtown apartment. Youve dragged your feet for three years.

That had been our marital home.

Id signed the divorce papers without a second thought, but the property transfer had remained undone. Not because I was reluctant to let it go, but because back then, I simply had no energy left for material possessions.

Ill meet you at the law firm tomorrow, I said, bypassing them and continuing down the path.

The rain intensified. Without an umbrella, I could only quicken my pace. My wrist was suddenly seized by a strong grip. Garrison, holding a black umbrella, caught up to me in long strides.

My cars at the bottom of the hill. Get in, he commanded, his tone unyielding.

I tried to pull my hand away. No thanks, Ive called a ride.

His grip tightened, knuckles white. You wont find a ride here. Do you want to die on this mountain road?

Tristan and Ramona had also approached; he held another umbrella over Ramonas head. The three of them looked like a proper family.

I stopped struggling, letting Garrison pull me towards his black Maybach. The car door shut, sealing off the cold rain outside. The air inside the car was suffocating. I sat in the back. Garrison took the drivers seat. Ramona, naturally, opened the front passenger door and settled in.

The car started, smoothly easing onto the winding mountain road. No one spoke, the atmosphere thick with awkward tension. Ramona turned on the car stereo, casually selecting a soothing piano piece. Garrison used to only listen to financial news when he drove. Now, hed even changed his habits for her.

Sister, are you leaving again after this trip? Ramona asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

Ill leave once the paperwork is done, I replied, staring at the blurry rain outside the window, my voice flat.

Ramona seemed to let out a quiet sigh of relief. Garrison and I are having our engagement party next month, she murmured.

I turned my head, my gaze falling on Garrisons profile. He drove with a poker face, offering no denial.

Congratulations, I said, two words devoid of warmth.

Garrison slammed on the brakes! Tires screeched on the wet road. Ramona gasped, clutching her chest. What is it, Garrison?

Garrison pressed the accelerator again, his voice tight. A stray cat ran out.

A nauseating wave of sickness rolled in my stomach. The long flight, coupled with the recent cold rain, was taking its toll on my already fragile body. I closed my eyes, fighting down the urge to vomit.

Images of my mothers final moments involuntarily flashed in my mind.

Mom had been sick for a long time. In her last few months, it was Tristan and Ramona who attended to her bedside in the hospital. I hadnt even seen her one last time, because the day her critical condition notice was issued, I was on an operating table in another hospital. A massive hemorrhage during my abortion, and I was barely clinging to life myself.

Everyone assumed Mom would leave her inheritance to Tristan, who had cared for her day and night. But Mom understood everything, and she loved me most. Before she passed, she hired a lawyer and left all her lifes savings to me.

The lawyer handed me a voice recorder. Inside were her last words for me.

Giselle, take this money and stay far away from them. Mom knows you couldnt be there; Mom doesnt blame you. Mom just hopes you can live for yourself from now on.

After Tristan learned of the will, he smashed everything he could in the hospital corridor, believing Mom had been utterly biased. He told everyone I was a cold-blooded monster, who hadnt even bothered to visit my dying mother, yet selfishly took all the assets and fled.

From then on, he brought Ramona back to the family estate, treating her as his only real sister, as compensation. And I became the undeniable villain of the family.

Sister, are you carsick? Ramonas voice pulled me back to reality.

I opened my eyes, the cramps in my stomach intensifying. No, I forced out, enduring the pain.

The car finally stopped in front of the family estate. I pushed open the door and stepped out, a cold draft swirling down my collar, making me shiver. Tristans car had also arrived. He parked and walked towards me.

Grab your things and get out. Dont dirty the house, Tristans eyes were still like daggers.

I said nothing, walking directly into the old house. The furnishings were exactly as they had been three years ago. I followed my memory up to the study on the second floor. Garrison followed behind me, his footsteps heavy.

The study door creaked open, and the stale smell of old paper and ink washed over me. Garrison walked to the safe, inputting the code. It was Ramonas birthday.

The safe opened. He took out a thick stack of documents and held them out to me. Sign these, and that apartment will have nothing to do with you anymore.

I took the pen. Without looking at the contents, I flipped directly to the last page.

The pen tip scratched softly across the paper.

Youre not even going to look at it? Garrison suddenly spoke, a hint of irritation in his tone.

I finished signing and pushed the documents back to him. Theres nothing to see. Im leaving with nothing.

Garrison stared at the signature on the papers, his brow furrowed. Three years. What are you playing at, being so high and mighty now?

I didnt reply, turning instead to search for my passport, which I had left behind. I pulled open a drawer; inside lay a wooden jewelry box. I opened the box, and my passport rested quietly at the very bottom.

Next to the passport, nestled beneath it, was a delicate sterling silver longevity lock. Three years ago, I had personally sought out a priest at the cathedral to bless it for my baby. I had planned to put it on him myself once he was born.

I quickly snapped the lid shut and shoved the box into my bag. My movements were clumsy, knocking over the pen holder on the desk. The pen holder clattered to the floor, making a sharp sound.

Garrison walked over, bending to pick up the pen holder. His gaze lingered on my bag for a moment. What did you take? he asked.

My personal belongings, I said, zipping my bag shut.

Garrison took a step closer, his tall frame exuding an intense pressure. Giselle, what exactly are you hiding?

I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. Mr. Garrison, were divorced. Im not obligated to report my private matters to you.

Garrisons face darkened. You left so decisively back then, without a single explanation.

Explanation for what? I retorted. To explain that I didnt push Ramona, or to explain that I dont need your charity?

Why are you always so prickly? Garrison gritted his teeth. Ramona was crippled because of you back then. If you had just swallowed your pride and apologized, I could have saved you.

I found it utterly laughable. Why should I apologize for something I didnt do?

The study door opened, and Ramona walked in, carrying two steaming cups of tea. Garrison, Sister, have some tea to warm up.

She walked between us, skillfully diffusing the tense atmosphere. Garrison stepped back half a pace and took a teacup.

I didn't take one. Im not thirsty. The paperwork is done; Im leaving.

I picked up my bag, walked past Ramona, and headed for the door.

Sister, Ramona called out to me. I stopped. This study, Tristan said hes turning it into my music room, Ramona said, looking at me with a subtle hint of triumph.

I glanced around the room where I had spent ten years. Suit yourselves.

I left the study, walking down the hallway towards the stairwell. Tristan stood at the landing, smoking. In the hazy smoke, his expression was shadowed and unreadable.

In such a hurry to leave? Afraid to face Ramona? Tristan stubbed out his cigarette.

I stopped in front of him. Tristan, do you truly believe that Ramonas leg was my fault?

Tristan scoffed. Who else could it be but you?

I looked at him, speaking flatly, Tristan, we are blood relatives, brother and sister.

Then where were you when Mom passed away?

When I touched a raw nerve, Tristan didnt back down. I opened my mouth, but decided against wasting more words on him.

Outside, the rain intensified, strong winds whipping raindrops against the glass. I walked to the foyer, preparing to change my shoes and leave, but the butler stopped me.

Miss Giselle, the roads outside are closed due to the storm. It seems you wont be able to leave tonight.

I looked at the pitch-black night and the raging storm outside, my spirits sinking to rock bottom.

Garrison carefully helped Ramona down the stairs. Since you cant leave, stay the night, Garrison stated. Tristan frowned but didnt object.

At dinner, the atmosphere in the dining room was suffocating. The long dining table was laden with rich dishes, most of them Ramonas favorite seafood. I quietly picked at the greens on my plate.

Ramona picked up a piece of fish, but it slipped from her grasp just as she brought it to her mouth, falling onto the table. She bit her lip in annoyance.

Garrison naturally picked up the serving tongs, selected another piece of fish, carefully removed the bones, and placed it in her bowl. Tristan, meanwhile, served her a bowl of hot soup. Be careful, its hot.

They doted on Ramona, showering her with care. I ate my plain rice, a detached observer.

My stomach hurt too much, so I only ate a few bites before returning to my room. The bedroom was spotlessly clean, clearly maintained regularly. I sat on the edge of the bed, the cramps in my stomach growing more frequent.

I found the painkillers in my bag and dry-swallowed two tablets. The pain eased slightly, but I still couldnt sleep. The wind and rain outside hadn't stopped.

I leaned against the headboard, checking the time on my phone. My flight was at three tomorrow afternoon. Before that, I needed to visit the downtown hospital.

After my abortion, the records of my frozen eggs and embryos were still there. I wanted to leave completely, erase every trace of myself from this place. I didn't want any more ties to them.

At 2 AM, I changed, then quietly opened my door. The hallway was pitch black, with only a faint glow from the sconce at the far end.

The wind and rain had subsided a little. I used a rideshare app to call a car, paying triple the fare to finally get a driver. I opened my umbrella and walked out into the rainy night.

The hospital corridor reeked of harsh disinfectant. In the dead of night, only the on-call doctor was in the archives office. I handed over my identification and application form.

The doctor skimmed through my file, his brows gradually furrowing. Ms. Giselle, correct? he asked, pushing up his glasses.

I nodded.

Once this destruction agreement is signed, the three frozen embryos you stored will be disposed of as medical waste, the doctor stated matter-of-factly.

I confirm, I said, picking up the pen from the table.

The doctor sighed, pushing the agreement towards me. Actually, youre still young. Although that hemorrhage three years ago damaged your system, its not entirely hopeless.

My hand froze, the pen tip bleeding a dark blot on the paper. No need. Just dispose of them.

I took a deep breath, quickly signing my name on the agreement. The doctor took the agreement, stamping it with a bright red VOID mark. All set. You may go.

I picked up my identification and turned to leave. Just as I stepped out of the outpatient building, I saw that familiar Maybach.

Garrison, without an umbrella, rushed towards me in long strides. Rainwater dripped from his jawline, his face ashen.

He grabbed my shoulder, his voice hoarse, barely recognizable. What did you just sign in there?

I tried to shake off his hand. None of your business.

Garrisons chest heaved violently, as if breathing had become difficult. That hemorrhage what does that mean? Garrison stared into my eyes, his voice trembling uncontrollably. His fingers tightened, his eyes gradually reddening. Giselle, three years ago were you pregnant?