Chapter 1

I was publicly humiliated at my son's wedding.

My son, Davy Hudson, took the microphone and said to the guests, "Mom, please give your blessing to Dad and Alma. They've been through so much."

In the audience, Alma Mason, the woman who had been with my husband, Walter Hudson, for twenty years was covering her face, sobbing, looking heartbreakingly fragile.

I smiled, turned, and left, but at the intersection, I was struck by a car and thrown into the air.

The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day Davy turned eight.

Alma was spoon-feeding him ice cream, while Walter shot me an impatient glare. "Can't you just leave the kid alone for once?"

This time, I slammed the divorce papers right in his face. "Custody's yours. I only want visitation. And don't even think about cheating me out of a single share I'm owed!"

*****

The crystal chandelier was so bright that it hurt the eyes.

Regina Hudson stood in the corner of the party hall, watching the young man in the white suit up on stage. That was her son, Davy. Today was his wedding day.

The emcee's voice echoed through the microphone with an over-the-top enthusiasm. "Now, let's invite the groom to express his gratitude to his parents!"

Davy took the microphone. He glanced first at his father, Walter, seated at the main table, and then at the woman in the champagne-colored dress beside him.

Alma lowered her head just as that moment, wiping the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Today, the person I want to thank most is Alma," Davy said.

Regina's wine glass shook in her hand. Her emerald bracelet tapped against the glass, producing a crisp chime.

Davy said in a steady voice, like he was reciting a speech he'd rehearsed a thousand times, "For twenty years, Alma has quietly stayed by my dad's side, enduring so much criticism. And my mom..."

He finally looked toward the corner. His eyes were open and honest.

"I just want my mom to let my dad and Alma be together. They've loved each other for years. It's been hell for them," Davy said.

The whole hall went dead silent for a few seconds, then people started whispering in shock. Regina saw Alma lift her head, tears streaming down her face as she gazed at Walter like he was her whole world.

Walter grabbed Alma's hand, completely ignoring Regina.

Regina put down her wine glass and walked out, not in any rush, her dress fluttering softly behind her. The emcee scrambled to cover up the awkwardness in the background.

The night air outside the hotel was thick with moisture. Regina wandered aimlessly down the street. Neon lights bled into the damp air, just like the ink that once spread across her drawing paper all those years ago.

She had once been an artist. She graduated from art school, with a mentor who'd urged her to study abroad in Deepikar.

But then Walter said he needed money to start his business, so she sold her prized graduation painting, The Misty Spring Hills.

After that, she got pregnant and gave up her dreams for the sake of her family. Later, Alma entered their lives.

The traffic light was red at the intersection, but Regina walked right through without stopping.

As the screech of brakes ripped through the night, she felt an unexpected sense of relief.

When everything went white, she felt that it was better this way. This whole life just felt too much.

*****

"Mom, the cake's here!" A crisp, childish voice cut through the darkness. Regina jerked awake, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She saw balloons, streamers, and an eight-year-old boy clapping his hands in excitement.

"Regina, what are you spacing out for now?" Walter's impatient voice came from beside her.

She slowly turned her head and saw him sitting on the couch, his brow furrowed as usual.

A young woman in a white dress walked over, carrying a strawberry cake.

It was Alma, who was twenty-five years old at the time.

Alma said, setting the cake on the table and naturally taking the empty seat next to Walter, "I ordered Davy's favorite ice cream cake for him. Regina, don't be so strict with him. It's his birthday, let him enjoy himself."

Davy had already snuck a spoonful of ice cream and pulled a silly face at Regina, grinning with pride.

Back then, Regina would snatch the spoon away and say, "No sweets before dinner."

Then, Davy would cry, Walter would scold her, and Alma would try to calm him down.

Again and again, Regina ended up as the bad guy in Davy's eyes, while Alma was always the gentle, caring aunt.

Regina looked down at her hands. She was dressed in beige loungewear, her wedding ring still on her finger, and her waist was a little fuller than before.

She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. At thirty-five, there were a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but she still looked young.

Suddenly, she smiled.

Her laugh was soft, but it made the whole living room fall silent. She walked over to the table, cut a big slice of ice cream cake, and set it on Davy's plate.

She said, "Go ahead. It's your birthday. Today, you get your way."

Davy froze. Walter's frown deepened. Alma's smile stiffened on her face.

Regina turned and walked into the kitchen, her steps purposeful.

As she passed the dressing mirror, she glanced at her reflection. The woman staring back at her had a look she barely recognized.

This time, she'd never let herself be caged again.