“This is why I hate talking to you. You make me feel trapped in my own life. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m sure Lily won’t mind,” he added, pulling out the first aid kit and starting to look for bandages and alcohol.
His nonchalant attitude was infuriating. It felt as if he was minimizing our grief and treating our suffering as a minor inconvenience, and I was done playing along with his twisted sense of priorities.
I let out a bitter chuckle. “You can’t make it up, Michael. Lily is dead.”
His eyes widened in disbelief, and anger flashed across his face. “I can’t believe you’d go this far, faking your own daughter’s death to make me feel guilty. What kind of mother are you? Watch your mouth!” he snapped, his voice rising.
I felt a surge of frustration, like I was trying to reason with a brick wall.
Before I could respond, Allison cut in with a disingenuous tone. “Listen, I know I shouldn’t have asked Michael to come with me, but you don’t need to fake something as serious as your daughter’s death. It could be a bad omen. What if something terrible happens later?”
Her innocent act was infuriating. This was the same Allison who had once been my close friend. She had deceived me before, crying and claiming there was nothing between her and Michael when I confronted her years ago.
But over time, it became clear she had been lying. Our friendship had shattered, and she had continued to play the victim, telling people I was the villain who had cut her off without a chance to explain. I had let it go because I wanted peace with Lily.
But now, she was accusing me of lying about Lily’s death and trying to dismiss it as a mere ploy.
My anger boiled over. Trembling with rage, I slapped her hard, the sound of the impact echoing through the living room.
The room fell into a heavy silence for a moment before Michael snapped out of his shock and rushed over to Allison. I couldn’t take it any longer. I turned and headed upstairs, ignoring Michael’s angry shouts and desperate calls.
Once I was in my room, I locked the door behind me and sank down onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.
Everything felt overwhelming and exhausting. I crawled to my bed, too drained to change out of my dress or wipe off my makeup, and tried to sleep.