The rain had not stopped in three days.
Outside the cracked window of a nursing home room, the sky hung low and heavy, pressing the world into silence.
Lina lied alone in a creaky wooden bed, a faded blanket draped over her lower body. The hands resting on her sides were thin, veins rising like dry roots beneath her wrinkled skin. On the small table lay a photo frame that had been covered.
she hadn't had the strength to turn it for months. Not that it mattered anymore. Their family was shattered, the family she sacrificed herself to keep together was gone.
Lina smiled faintly, the corners of her lips trembling. It wasn't bitterness she felt, at least not anymore. What was left in it stead was only a hollow kind of peace that came from finally realizing how foolish she'd been.
When she married her husband Lucien Cole, she was barely twenty-three. He was handsome, successful, the kind of man every woman dreamed of, or so she thought. In the early months of their marriage, he gave her comfort, status, and a house big enough to echo with silence. He was the best husband in their circle of friends, always ending his meetings early to keep her company at home and always putting her first.
But love? That had always belonged to another woman.
After his mistress died in a car accident, leaving behind a one-year-old boy, Lina had begged to raise him herself. She thought that if she could love that child enough, Caleb would one day look at her with gratitude and understand just how she love him, maybe even spare her some bits of affection.
He never did.
Instead, he visited the child's grave very week and forgot Lina's birthday every year.
Her only daughter, Ivy, grew up watching her mother pour all her affection into someone else's child. The little girl who once clung to her skirts learned to hate her, to hate her for her weakness.
"I hope you die alone like the fool you are," Ivy had said the last time they spoke. Her voice had been shaking, but her eyes were dry.
That was ten years ago. Lina never saw her again.
It was when her husband had just passed away and his lawyer had visited their estate for the will reading. She could still remember the day very clearly.
"Madam Lina, this is the final reading. Please sign here."
The lawyer's voice was polite, and detached. The way people spoke to strangers, not to the woman who'd worn the Cole family name for over thirty years.
Lina sat on the edge of the leather sofa in the Cole family's study, her back straight out of habit more than strength. Her hair, once jet black and glossy, was now threaded with silver, tied in a low knot at her nape. The crystal chandelier above her threw fractured light over the dark mahogany table, with the rows of legal files.
Across from her, Aaron Cole lounged with casual ease, one leg crossed over the other, his custom suit pristine, his expression controlled. The son of another woman. The boy Lina had spoon-fed, tutored, defended. The boy she'd stood in front of like a shield when the world spat the word "bastard" at him.
he didn't look at her now.
Next to him, Ivy stood rigid, arms folded across her chest. Her lips were painted a deep red, her heels sharp, her gaze even sharper. Lina hadn't seen her daughter in three years. She had imagined this moment so many times-the apology, the embrace, the words Mom, I'm Home.
Instead, Ivy's eyes were ice.
The lawyer cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "As per Mr. Lucien's final testament, the Lu Group shares, real estate holdings, financial assets, and all remaining equity are hereby inherited in full by his son, Aaron Cole.
The words were not surprising to Lina but they still felt like a physical blow.
Lina's hands only trembled once on her lap, then stilled.
The lawyer continued, "Regarding Mrs. Lina.. Mr. Lu left a statement."
Ivy's gaze flicked briefly to her mother, then away, as if the sight burned.
The lawyer unfolded a smaller envelope and read, "To Lina. Thank you for your care of Aaron all these years. You always understood."
That was it.
No house, no pension, no guarantees. Not even a symbolic apartment or trust in her name.
just you always understood.
Understood what? That she was never the one he loved? That she had been a convenient, silent stand-in? That even her loyalty was something he assumed he could spend without limit?
"Is that all?" Ivy asked, her tone razor-thin.
"Yes," the lawyer replied gently. "There are no assets assigned to Mrs. Cole.
Aaron finally turned his head, met Lina's gaze for a fraction of a second and just when he was about to open his mouth and talk, Ivy snapped at him. "I don't want your charity."
Her eyes cut to Lina, cold and full of an anger that had fermented for years. "You must be happy," Ivy said quietly.
"You spent your whole life loving someone else's son. At least now it's official. You've succeeded."
Lina's lips parted. "Ivy..."
"Don't," her daughter recoiled, as if the word itself was poison. "When I begged you to come to my recital, you said Aaron had a fever. When you missed every parent-teacher meeting, it was because Aaron needed you. When I asked why dad never hugged me, you told me to be understanding. When he slapped me for talking back, you told me I was too sensitive." Her voice didn't raise; that made it worse. It was too calm. "You spent your entire life being grateful for crumbs and thought neglect was love. Don't call my name now."
Every sentence landed like a blade.
"I tried to.." Lina's voice splintered.
"No," Ivy said. "You tried very hard to impress a man who never chose you. You sacrificed not only yourself but your daughter too, to raise the living monument of his affair. And look how it ended, Mom. All of this.." she flung a hand at Aaron, the house, the lawyer and the papers" belongs to them. You have nothing. I would understand that you only wanted Dad's love, but what about me? Did you ever think about my future?"
She took a slow breath. "I used to feel sorry for you. Now I just think you chose this."
"Ivy," Lina whispered, tears welling, "I..."
"You are not a victim," her daughter said softly. "You are a volunteer."
Then she turned, heels clicking against the marble, and walked out without looking back. It was the last time Lina saw her.
...................
Now, as the rain drummed against the glass, Lina's chest rose and fell unevenly. Her breath rattled like an old clock running out of time.
Lina reached for her phone. The screen lit up with no notifications. She hovered a trembling finger over Ivy's number. It had never changed, she knew that much; she'd dialed it and hung up more times than she could count. Finally she dropped the phone facing the window as a lone tear dropped from her right eye sliding into her hairline as she lay there.
She turned her head towards the direction of the table where the photo frame was lying there, her vision blurred as she stared at it. She could no longer remember what had been said before that photo was taken. She only remembered how carefully she had positioned herself slightly to Lucien's side.
Never too close, and never fully beside him.
A sharp pain tore through her chest.
Her fingers tightened in the blanket. The rain struck harder against the window as lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the room in white.
In the corner of the room, the radio played a faint love song from the past, one she used to hum while waiting for her husband to come home.
' You said forever, and forever slipped away...
she chuckled softly. "Forever was never meant for me," she murmured.
The music cut into static.
When the nurse entered minutes later, Lina Hart or Lina Cole wife to Lucien Cole had her head slumped over to her side, her hand hanging loosely at her side like she was reaching out to something or someone, her expression strangely peaceful.
They tried reaching out to her daughter but no one picked up, so the once mighty Mrs. Cole who everyone wanted to kiss up to was buried in a quiet public cemetery at the edge of the city.