The wind whipped past Lola, tugging at her wig. Her eyes softened as she stared at the gravestone, which had the inscription: [In Loving Memory of Loren Albert.] Right next to it was a smaller gravestone with a little toy house on top, filled with toys.
That small grave held Lola's heart: her child.
"I missed you…" she whispered, her eyes falling on her mother's grave once more. "I really missed you, Mom."
If wishing her father had died instead of her mother was a sin, then Lola was guilty. Perhaps, if Lawrence Young had died, Lola wouldn't despise him so much.
"But more than I miss you… I've always wanted to ask… why him?" She added, her voice quiet and trembling. "A child cannot choose their parents, but you… You could choose who was going to be the father of your children."
In her past life, she had wished many times not to have been born. That her mother had chosen someone else and loved them instead of Lawrence Young. Even if that meant Lola would never exist.
