Chapter 1

In the morgue, I stared at Mom's face, my tears cascading down like a waterfall. Mom had raised me all by herself, never once asking anything from me. And yet, I couldn't even fulfill her dying wish. When I found out that Mom was terminally ill, I begged my boyfriend of six years, Gerald Chulp, to marry me. I wanted to let her know that there would be someone taking care of me even after she was gone. I begged him for 27 days, but Gerald kept putting it off. On the first day, his childhood sweetheart, Sheryl Snowden, had car trouble, so he had to go pick her up. On the second day, he had to help Sheryl move, so he didn't have time. The excuses continued over the next twenty-odd days. On the 26th day, Sheryl had some stomach issues, and he needed to take care of her. If Sheryl hadn't posted their marriage certificate online today, I would've still been kept in the dark. I had come up with ten thousand reasons for Gerald in my mind. But not once did I think it was because he was already married. I kneeled before Mom's hospital bed until evening arrived, and that was when Gerald's call came in. His voice was as gentle as ever. "It's late. Why aren't you home yet? Where are you? I'll go get you." I opened my mouth, but no words came out. If this were before, I would've pretended to throw a fit so that he would coax me and then I'd eagerly wait for him to come pick me up. But now, I could no longer say a single affectionate word to him. Gerald's voice grew anxious. "Harriet, where are you now?" "The hospital." Gerald paused, seemingly only remembering that I'd been taking care of Mom these past few days. "I… Wait for me. I'll go to the hospital and keep you company." When he ended the call, I fought back the pain as I got up and started making arrangements for Mom's funeral. Ten minutes later, Gerald sent me another message. "Harriet, I need to meet with Sheryl's parents. I'll definitely go see your mom next time!" I wasn't surprised by this because in the past two years, the line I had heard most from him was—"Definitely. Next time." When he missed our anniversaries, he said he'd definitely make it up to me next time. When he skipped out on visiting Mom, he said he'd definitely come with me next time. When he put off going to the city hall with me, he said he'd definitely be free the next day. He knew I would forgive him, so he continued to hurt me without any care or thought. But this time, there wouldn't be a next time. Because there was no next time for Mom, and I was done forgiving him.