Catherine's POV
"Miss Catherine, you're awake. Good to know… my condolences."
Doctor Felix's voice pulled me out of the dark mess in my head.
"Yes," I replied quietly.
He called a nurse to check my vitals. I waved her off.
"Doctor Felix, I'm fine. You don't need to do that. I'm strong enough to fend for myself."
"But—"
"No but," I cut in, my voice firmer than I felt.
He paused, visibly uncomfortable.
Doctor Felix had become one of the few people I could call an acquaintance these past two and a half years. He always updated me on my mother's medications, sometimes even slipping me samples or options we couldn't afford. He tried to care, but I couldn't let him in.
"Miss Cathy," he said more gently now, "your mother gave us this two months ago. She instructed us to hand it over to you when… when she passed."
My stomach sank. The nurse handed me an envelope a sealed file. He continued:
"Also, when would you like to collect your mother's body? We need to arrange—"
"I'll get in touch with the graveyard administrator," I interrupted, holding the file like it was made of fire.
I realized I hadn't informed my workplace about my absence. I quickly applied for emergency leave through the company app to avoid getting a query.
After spending a few more hours at the hospital, dodging Doctor Felix's concerned glances especially after he noticed a fresh wound on my back I left. I couldn't explain. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I met with the graveyard administrator and chose the best spot available, one usually reserved for the so-called "prominent." I emptied my savings.
It was the only thing I could do right for my mother.
I couldn't save her but I could honor her.
Two days later, she was buried.
That night, I slept by her grave. I didn't care if I looked mad. I felt mad. Broken. Lost.
I lay there, surrounded by silence, sobbing into the cold marble.
"Why, mother… why?"
"I was this close… just this close to saving you. And now you're gone. Just like that."
My voice cracked under grief.
"You left me in this world, alone. No family. No father. Just me. You didn't even tell me who he was. You left me with nothing but questions, and pain..."
I sobbed until I couldn't breathe. Then I slept, half-hoping she'd wake me up like she used to. But the sun did.
By afternoon, I got up. The graveyard was so elite and private, no one had disturbed me.
I dragged myself home, changed, and went to a hospital not the one Doctor Felix worked in.
I wasn't ready to answer questions.
I treated myself in secret. I didn't want to carry a child… not his child.
Not after what he did.
The next day, I returned with a lavender flower, my mother's favorite.
I placed it on her grave and whispered,
"I'm gonna make you proud, even if you're no longer here, Mom."
For two days, I barely slept.
I kept seeing the images the night, the blood, the pain, her death.
It all played like a horror reel on repeat.
I finally ordered a sleeping pill. I couldn't break down. I had no one to take care of me if I did. No one.
When I returned to work after my leave, life didn't wait.
Mountains of designs, approvals, deadlines.
Oh I forgot to mention:
I'm a jewelry designer. A damn good one.
My mom said I inherited the gift from my grandmother. She even left me old sketchbooks, they were my compass whenever I got lost in design.
That day, I buried myself in work, reviewing my drafts for a big project launching tomorrow. I tweaked, edited, refined almost forgetting the pain. Like I was hiding inside the lines and colors.
Until I heard a whisper. Then two.
A rumor.
I froze.
I knew it before I even confirmed it.
All in the name of this bag...
"Shit."