Rosalind stepped off the crowded bus and walked home sluggishly, her expression worn and defeated.
This had been her routine for the past five months.
To pay the compensation demanded by the victim's family—on top of the mounting hospital expenses—they had drained every savings account they owned. In the end, they were even forced to sell their house.
Now, the once‐privileged family had moved into a cramped two-bedroom apartment.
When she walked inside, her eyes darkened to the sight of the living room.
Clothes were strewn across the living room, empty snack wrappers littered the couch, and the sink was piled high with unwashed dishes. The sticky, dirt-stained floor made her scalp prickle with irritation.
But the worst—the thing that nearly sent her over the edge—was the stench leaking out from her husband's bedroom.
It was so foul she instinctively covered her nose with her sleeve.
"Kiley! Enzo! Come out now!" Rosalind shouted, unable to control the rage .
Kailey emerge first, chewing a gum, her expression face full of dissatisfaction. "What now?" She asked, rolling her eyes.
Her attitude made Rosalind's fingers twitch with the urge to slap sense into her.
A second later, Enzo shuffled out as well, headphone still on, his eyes clues to his phone.
"Mom, why are you yelling?" he mumbled without looking up.
"You made me lose my game."
Rosalind stared at her two ungrateful and entitled children, and for a moment she couldn't breathe.
Her fingers tightened around the doorframe as she struggled to steady herself.
"Mom! If you have nothing to say, I'm going back to my room. My friends are waiting for me." Enzo said impatiently.
Rosalind felt chill run down her spine. How heartless,
Not a single word asking if she was okay. Not a glance of concern.
When had her obedient children become so unrecognisable?
The answer came almost instantly.
It began after her husband's accident—after their peaceful world shattered.
After they moved into this cramped, rundown apartment.
After she could no longer give them branded clothes, expensive gadgets, or fancy meals.
When the luxury disappeared, the respect vanished with it—along with the peace in their home.
Only then did Rosalind truly understand how much her husband had held together.
Only then did the children realise how comfortable their life once was.
A life they never appreciated—until it was gone.
No matter how much they wished, there was no going back.
"Stop right there!" Rosalind roared, her patience finally snapping.
"Do you know how hard I work outside?" Her hands curled into shaking fists. "Do you know how many jobs I juggle so you can study? So there is food on the table?"
Her voice broke.
"My back can't even straighten anymore."
She looked at them—two teenagers she barely recognised.
"All I asked was something simple—study, help with chores, and take care of your father when I'm gone."
The strength left her body, and she sank to the floor, shoulders trembling.
"Why… why is even that too much?"
The twins froze, stunned by the rare outburst. Their mother had never raised her voice before—not once.
But instead of guilt, irritation flickered in their eyes.
If their father could give them a good life, why couldn't she?
Since she gave birth to them, wasn't it her job to provide?
Still, they kept those thoughts hidden beneath lowered lashes.
Their silent, shared resentment was proof enough—they were twins born from the same selfish parents.
Then, at the worst possible moment, a mocking voice cut through the air.
"Tsk, tsk. A mother like you deserves children like that. If you hadn't committed wicked deeds, you wouldn't have birthed such ungrateful creatures. Karma always returns—children like these are your punishment."
An elderly woman stood outside their doorway, eyes gleaming with spite.
Her wrinkled face twisted into satisfaction.
Rosalind's remaining sanity snapped.
This woman had been harassing them ever since that day. Rosalind had endured it, believing silence would make the old woman eventually stop.
But after months of insults, she showed no sign of stopping.
Rosalind slowly stood up.
Did this woman really think she was someone who could be bullied forever?
"No matter how disappointing my children are—they're alive." Rosalind glared, voice turning sharp. "That means I haven't sinned."
She pointed at the old woman, expression cold.
"But you? One look at you is enough. Maybe God took your son because of the sins you committed."
The old woman staggered, as if the words struck her physically.
"You—you filthy bitch! How dare you?!" she shrieked, lunging forward with claw-like nails.
"Come on!" Rosalind snarled, slapping her hand away and grabbing a fistful of sparse grey hair. "You think I'm scared? I've tolerated you long enough!"
"Let go! Ahhh! Help—someone is beating an old woman!"
"Get lost," Rosalind hissed, shoving her hard. "Come here again and I won't hold back. My life is already falling apart. I don't mind going to jail."
Blinded by rage, she didn't realise how hard she had pushed.
The old woman hit the ground—and this time, she didn't get back up.
Silence filled the doorway.
Kailey moved first, steps hesitant.
She knelt beside the woman, hand shaking.
"M-Mom…" Her face drained of colour. "She… she's not breathing."