Lie to Love
Language: en
For five years of marriage, I’d grown accustomed to visiting my mother’s and child’s graves alone each year. Once again, Mark Wallace produced two plane tickets before the spring remembrance festival. One for him. The other, not for me. "Chelsea needs to go back for the ancestral rites. Same old routine," he said, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather. "I'll book your ticket for October. Hotel's already taken care of." I couldn't help but ask if this year could be an exception. In the frozen silence, the answer was already etched on his face. Christmas was spent with…