A mother's Tragedy

The news hit Hua like a tidal wave. She stood frozen in the doorway of her childhood home, her eyes wide with

shock, disbelief rendering her unable to move. She had just arrived, hoping to find some solace in her mother's presence, but instead, she was met with the devastating reality that shattered her world once again. Her mother had taken her own life.Ming was the first to reach her, pulling her into his arms as she stood in the doorway, numb. The weight of his embrace barely registered in her mind. All she could see was the police tape,the somber faces of the officers, and the sorrowful glances of the neighbors who had gathered nearby

"Hua, I'm so sorry.." Ming whispered, his voice cracking with emotion she couldn't "...she couldn't feel. She couldn't grasp the pain, the sorrow, or even the world around her. It was as if time had slowed, and everything she once held dear slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

Hua clutched Ming's arm weakly, her knees buckling as her mind tried to process the loss. Her mother — the one constant in her life after Shen's murder — was gone. Gone because the world had become too cruel, too dark, and now there was nothing left but the unbearable emptiness swallowing her whole.

Ming pulled her closer, whispering softly, "Hua, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He wanted to take away her pain, to protect her from the agony consuming her, but there were no words, no actions that could undo this tragedy. He held her tighter, letting her rest her head against his chest as her silent tears stained his shirt.

The officers began to approach her, their faces solemn and full of empathy. One of them, an older man with tired eyes, spoke gently, "Miss Liu, I know this is difficult, but we'll need to ask you some questions...when you're ready."

Hua blinked, barely registering his words. She felt like she was floating, detached from reality, watching everything unfold from a distance. The officer's words sounded muffled, drowned by the heavy weight pressing on her chest. She wanted to scream, to cry out that it wasn't fair — that none of this was fair — but her voice was trapped inside her throat.

Zihan, who had followed behind Ming, rushed up to them, her face pale and stricken. "Hua...oh my god, Hua, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice cracking as she gently reached for her friend's hand.

Hua's lips parted, but no sound came out. She shook her head slowly, as if denying everything that was happening. Her mind spun with questions — how did this happen? How could her mother have done this? And why, after all they'd been through, did it have to end like this?

Ming, still holding her close, finally spoke up for her. "We'll come to the station later. She needs time."

The officer nodded sympathetically, gesturing for the others to give them space. Ming guided Hua inside her childhood home, Zihan following closely behind. Everything inside was just as it had always been, but now it felt cold, foreign — like the warmth of her mother's presence had been ripped away.

They sat Hua down on the couch, but she stared blankly at the floor, the silence weighing on all of them. Ming crouched down in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. "Hua," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "I know you're hurting, but you're not alone in this. I promise we'll get through this together."

Zihan knelt beside him, tears rolling down her cheeks as she held onto Hua's arm. "We're here for you, Hua. Don't shut us out."

For a long time, Hua didn't respond. The weight of the world pressed down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe. But after what felt like an eternity, she finally lifted her eyes to meet theirs. Her voice, small and broken, finally escaped.

"They killed her...just like they killed Shen."

Ming's heart sank as he saw the raw, consuming pain in her eyes. He knew she was right — there was something more to this. It wasn't just grief that had pushed her mother over the edge; it was the same darkness that had taken her sister.

And now, Hua was left with nothing but the burning desire for justice.