I was discharged from the hospital after just a few days. My sister and I handled all the arrangements for Mona's funeral. Jackson, as if dead to the world, didn't even bother sending a single message.

The day Mona was buried, the wind howled fiercely, just like the day she passed.

I was incredibly weak, but I still held her urn in my hands, with my sister supporting me by my side.

After only a few steps, I began coughing so much I couldn't move. My sister, full of concern, gently helped me catch my breath.

How could my sweet Mona, so full of life, now be gone—reduced to this...