Mom and I board a flight to Fangoria to visit Alicia Carter, my wife. She's a special forces soldier who's here on a peacekeeping mission in this foreign country.

But the moment we walk out of the airport, we're ambushed by a group of kidnappers. One of them holds a gun to Mom's head and says, "If you don't give us the ransom in three days, we'll blow her head off!"

In a panic, I make a video call to Alicia, my hands shaking as I beg her to help me.

"Calm down, honey. I'll put in a request to lead a rescue mission. We'll save her within 24 hours!"

But the next day, I keep failing to get in touch with Alicia. After I blow up her phone with multiple calls, one finally connects. Amid her rushed panting, she tells me, "Sorry, honey. I just got assigned to an urgent escort mission. You guys just hang in there. I've arranged for the local authorities to—"

Her voice is abruptly cut off by a familiar male voice. "Alicia! Thank goodness you came over just to pick me up. I didn't have to spend 100 dollars on a cab after all! That cab driver didn't even have a license, and I can't believe he tried to ask for more money…"

The three-day deadline passes, and the kidnappers keep their word, letting me hear the gunshot myself.

As I clutch Mom's cold, dead body, Alicia calls me out of nowhere.

"Hey, honey. I just completed the escort mission. How are things on your end? Have the kidnappers released her?"

I look down at Mom. Her eyes will never open again. I gently wipe the blood off her face as I reply to Alicia in an eerily calm voice, "Yeah. They have."

Holding Mom's urn, I returned to the country alone to handle the funeral arrangements. Aunt Sharon, Mom's sister, helped me with the wake.

"Where's Alicia?" Aunt Sharon asked. "Why didn't she come back?"

"She's still on a peacekeeping mission…"

"That again? She didn't bother saving your mom when she got kidnapped, and now she won't even come back to help with the funeral! If your dad hadn't rushed into the fire to save her back then, she would've already…

"Your dad died saving her, and now your mom is gone, too. Will she only be satisfied when our entire family is gone?" Aunt Sharon broke down.

The harsh light of the hall stung my eyes. A photo of my parents had been placed on the table. My chest throbbed painfully. It felt like someone was hammering burning hot needles into my heart.

I reached out to hold Aunt Sharon steady. My throat caught. In the end, I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth.

"Alicia has an urgent mission to complete. She'll be back once the mission is over…"

"At your dad's funeral, she vowed to devote her life to repaying the debt she owed the Kane family," Aunt Sharon cried out emotionally.

Five years ago, a raging fire occurred, one that filled half the sky with smoke.

Dad had already withdrawn to safety, but when the authorities were checking to see who'd made it out, he realized Alicia Carter was nowhere to be found.

He dashed through the fleeing crowd and went back into the burning building to save the unconscious Alicia, shielding her with his own body. When a steel beam came crashing down, he bore the crushing weight alone and ended up dying in the fire.

During Dad's funeral, Alicia had cried until her throat started to bleed. She almost fainted from the grief.

But now, she'd specifically gone to meet Randall Larkin, her childhood friend, just to help him save the 100 dollars he would've had to spend on a cab.

In the hall, I continued to stare at the urn. My last memories of Mom kept replaying in my mind. Before we left, we'd both been thrilled that the family would finally be reunited.

Just a few days ago, Mom had held my hand and told me how this was going to be her first trip abroad.

Countless memories kept flooding through my head.

It finally hit me that I'd lost both my parents. I no longer had a family.

The last of the strength that had kept me going thus far crumbled at last. I clutched Mom's portrait and sobbed like a child.

Sitting in the empty hall, I got my phone out. My finger hovered over Alicia's name, but I couldn't bring myself to tap it.

After much hesitation, I checked her social media account instead. Her latest Instagram post was almost unbearable for me to see.

She'd posted a selfie she'd taken at the airport. She was smiling brightly, and I could vaguely detect a man's silhouette in the background.

The caption read, "You're finally here."

As I stared fixedly at the screen of my phone, a scene from years ago popped into my head. I remembered the way Alicia had cried at Dad's funeral and promised him she would take care of me for the rest of my life in his place.

I could still remember the light in her eyes back then, but the light now shone on someone else.

It was as if my phone had turned into a pile of bricks. I could barely hold onto it.

With shaky fingers, I checked the comments on the post. I wanted to write something, but all I managed to type was a string of gibberish.

Her second last post had been a photo of her and Randall holding glasses of red wine. The caption read, "Cheers to not spending 100 dollars on a cab."

It was posted on the same day that Mom was killed, after the ransom deadline passed.

Out of nowhere, I let out a hollow laugh that seemed to have been squeezed out of my chest by force. My fingers almost bore into the screen as I typed out, "That strapped for cash, huh? I'll give you an extra 200 dollars in the divorce, then. You don't need to thank me."

Immediately, my phone began vibrating. As soon as I took the call, Alicia screamed at me, "Gregory! What the hell is wrong with you? Delete that comment now! How can you throw the word divorce around like it's nothing?"

I looked at Mom's portrait in the funeral parlor and snorted. "What's the matter? Is 200 too little for you? I'll make sure you get a bit more in the divorce settlement then."

I couldn't be bothered to say another word to her, so I turned my phone off.

…

After signing the divorce agreement, I stuffed it into an envelope, along with the deed to the house.

The marital home we shared had once been filled with our memories, but now, it only held the neatly stacked cardboard boxes in the middle of the living room.

I didn't take a single thing with me.

I devoted all my time to organizing the evidence for Mom's case, repeatedly checking every testimony and every photo. I swore to file a lawsuit with the Fangorian court to seek justice on Mom's behalf. I would make sure her killers were punished for their crimes.

As I drove back to my family's old house, the scenery along the way felt impossibly familiar.

My parents had been extremely reluctant to sell this place. Every brick and tile of the old house symbolized their hard work.

To save up money to buy the land, Dad spent three straight years sleeping only four hours a day. Mom insisted on working alongside the construction crew even when she was pregnant just to save on some labor costs.

Dad's painting of us as a family still hung on the living room wall, though the paint had faded a little. I could almost see him standing on the ladder, carefully hanging it up.

I'd just turned into the village when Aunt Sharon called.

"Greg! You need to hurry back right away! Alicia brought a man to the old house, and she says she wants to sell it off!"

When I rushed into the compound, Randall stood there with one arm wrapped around Alicia's waist.

"Once you sell off this shabby dump, Alicia, it'll be just about enough to cover my debts. If there's any money left over, you can use it to start a business."

He nudged her cheek, saying affectionately, "You should stop working as a special forces soldier. It's so dangerous."

Alicia melted into his arms, nuzzling against him like a kitten. "Whatever you say, Randy."

I marched up to her and snatched the sales agreement contract away in one swift motion, my knuckles turning white.

"Alicia! What right do you have to sell my family's old house?"

"Gregory? What are you doing here?" Alicia raised her eyebrows in surprise before scoffing. "How dare you have the audacity to question me? I haven't even confronted you about the divorce yet!"

Randall immediately stepped forward and chimed in with faux concern, "Gregory, didn't your mom get kidnapped? I'm shocked to see that you can still come here and make a scene over the house."

With an exaggerated sigh, he added, "If we'd only just gathered the ransom money sooner, maybe Mrs. Kane could've been saved earlier. But thankfully, the rescue—"

"Shut up!" I grabbed Randall by the collar and pinned him to the ground.

"You think I didn't want to?" I roared, my voice so dry and hoarse that it sounded like it'd been torn straight out of my chest.

Even if I had to go sell off every single thing I own, including my organs, I would've done anything I could to get Mom back. I would willingly sacrifice my life just so she could live for one more day.

But I was abroad in Fangoria, thousands of miles away from home. How could I have possibly raised the ransom money in just three days?

My throat tightened as I recalled the suffering Mom went through before she died.

However, Alicia suddenly rushed up and shoved me to the side. "What the hell are you doing, Gregory! Randall's right. If you'd just—"

She stood defensively in front of Randall, glaring at me in fury.

"You want to sell off my parents' old house to pay off the debts of some random man? My, my. My parents are so lucky to have you as their daughter-in-law!"

"Don't be so stubborn, Gregory. The house is just sitting empty anyway," Alicia snapped with an annoyed frown.

"Sitting empty?"

I pointed toward the house, my voice cracking as I growled, "The sweater Mom made for you is still hanging in the bedroom! You said you'd try it when you came back! Dad built the entire kitchen himself, brick by brick! He said he wanted you to have a hot meal every time you came home!"

The apple tree in the garden rustled in the breeze. Mom had just planted it a month before she died.

"Mom even said she wanted you to be able to have fresh apples from the garden once you came home."

Randall abruptly piped up, "Well, out with the old, in with the new—"

"Go to hell!" I grabbed Randall by the collar again. "Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you try to take the house my parents built themselves?"

Alicia hurried over and grabbed my hand, her tone suddenly softening. "Randall helped me in the past. I can't just stand back and watch while the debt collectors hound him…"

That only gave me the urge to laugh. What about my family? Did we not help her?

"Search your damn conscience, Alicia. Who's the one who carried you out of the fire back then? Who scrimped and saved just to pay for your education?"

Alicia's eyes flickered evasively, but she soon regained her cool and said, "That's all in the past…"

"The past?" Laughing bitterly, I flung her hand off. "So two decades of love and care that my parents showered on you have been reduced to just a fleeting moment from your past, huh?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I raised my hand and slapped her.

Alicia staggered two steps backward, her carefully styled curls falling across her cheeks. A bright red handprint quickly appeared on her fair face.

Clutching her face, she shrieked in shock, "D-Did you just hit me? Divorce! I want a divorce!"

"Good!"

Alicia stiffened. She probably assumed that I would've backed down and compromised in the hopes of making peace with her—as I'd done countless times before.

But not anymore.

Randall immediately stepped in front of Alicia and put on a show of moral righteousness.

"What kind of a man hits a woman, Gregory? If you want to hit someone, just hit me. I don't want you two to fight because of me. I'll just forget about the money. I'll—"

I punched him hard, making him crumple to the ground. His face turned pale as he shrank away from me. "It's fine. You can beat me to death if you want to, Gregory, if it makes you feel better."

Seeing this, Alicia looked as if the situation had dawned on her. Her eyes brightened a little, and she chuckled coyly. "Are you jealous, Greg?"