Chapter 4
Over the next week, Abigail spent her nights riding her motorcycle along Summit Loop, her days shopping for clothes with her best friend Hannah, and gradually taking back control of the company her mother had left her.
During that week, Frederick and Timothy didn’t come home once, nor did they send her a single message. Without Abigail around, they seemed perfectly happy.
Every evening, she could still see photos and videos of Timothy posted in the family chat.
“Today, Dad took me to Universal Studios. It was so fun!”
“Dad said good things should be shared with the ones you love most, so I brought Grandma some delicious cheese yogurt.”
Timothy even posted the shadows of the three of them standing together on Instagram.
One of the relatives commented below, “Timothy, did you go with your parents? The three of you are such a happy family.”
Timothy replied, “Not with Mom, though.”
Watching his countless feeds, Abigail quietly removed him from her Close Friends list, unpinned him from her chats, and turned off post and story notifications for him.
In the past, she had been the first to like or comment on every post, replied instantly, never let conversations fall to the bottom, and sent the earliest good mornings and the latest good nights.
That had been her way of showing Timothy she loved him.
Now, she was slowly taking it back.
Just as she finished, Frederick sent a message.
For the first time in eight years, during a cold war, he reached out to her proactively. “When you go to the Kemp’s residence tomorrow, please bring Timothy’s favorite toy.”
He was still polite and distant, as if she were nothing more than a maid.
She didn’t reply. She turned off her phone and finally fell into a deep sleep.
The next day was the start of autumn.
Early in the morning, her driver took her to the Kemp’s residence. Mariana was traditional; besides hosting banquets on major holidays, she also gathered the family during seasonal transitions.
As the eldest daughter-in-law, Abigail was expected to be there to receive relatives and guests-every time, without
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Chapter 4
fail, for eight years.
Upon arriving, she overheard the guests talking about her.
“Frederick, why didn’t Abigail come early with you?”
“There were things at home. She’ll be here this morning,” Frederick replied, calm and even.
Abigail pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The room fell silent. Even Frederick looked momentarily surprised.
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He saw his wife-the one who never wore makeup-now with delicate light makeup, her once long, flowing hair now cut short and dyed, her usual pale wardrobe replaced by a rich crabapple-colored dress.
“Abigail, why did you come like this?”
The others recovered and gasped, “Abigail, you cut your hair and put on makeup?”
Mariana, who had been sipping tea, looked at her daughter-in-law in disbelief.
She stood up and, in front of everyone, said coldly, “What is this outfit? Go change and come back.”
The obedient Abigail of the past would have complied-but not today.
She answered slowly, each word deliberate, “Mariana, how I dress is my freedom. I won’t change.”
Mariana froze, stunned by the defiance.
It was the first time Abigail had ever talked back.
The onlookers were equally shocked-this gentle, graceful woman was acting out of character.
Frederick, who had stayed silent, finally spoke. “Abigail, apologize to Mom.”
earing a stern expression, came forward. “Mom, I don’t like this version of you.”
at the two of them and felt the irony.
In front of everyon
band and her son, yet they didn’t support her.
Ened
ick, “I am not wrong. I will not apologize.”
ud, “You don’t like me? That’s fine. I like myself this way.”
ed gazes around her, she walked out.
e left the Kemp’s residence, she took out her little notebook and saw the fourth wish she had written-“Find Someone who truly loves me.”
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