Under the curious and confused gazes of the crowd, the old man fainted. A kind passerby called an ambulance and sent him to the hospital.
Zale woke up in the hospital ward with Mira standing before him.
Her face was full of gloating and disdain.
"I didn't know you could still recognize your son even in that condition."
Zale's eyes widened in horror.
"Ah… ahh…"
To his dismay, he found his mouth crooked and his body unresponsive.
Mira's face contorted with hatred and resentment.
She had lived like a pampered princess in her family, spoiled by her parents and adored by her two brothers.
When a matchmaker introduced Zale to her family, she was satisfied with the tall, handsome, and honest man.
However, only a few months after their wedding, they were asked to move out by Zale's family.
To others, Zale was a rare, good man—hardworking and devoted to his family.
But in her eyes, he was a loser; she looked down on him in every way.
Years passed amidst countless fights and arguments.
Life was hard, but since everyone was in a similar situation, she was unhappy—but not too much.
However, gradually, the people around them grew better off, while their family seemed trapped in that small house, showing no improvement.
Her two brothers-in-law opened small businesses in town.
Even the cousin she had always looked down on, as well as her sister-in-law's family, lived far better lives than she did.
It was all Zale's fault.
How dare he marry her when he couldn't provide her with a good life?
Over time, every small grievance was noted down by her, building into overwhelming resentment.
Looking at Zale playing happily with the children, the warm, loving scene stung her eyes. Mira's gaze turned cold, naked malice dancing in her dark eyes.
An evil urge to ruin his happiness gripped her heart.
To take revenge on Zale, she sold their eldest son, Aden, to a beggar gang.
She also brainwashed their twin son and daughter against their father.
Now, seeing him in such a miserable state—abandoned by everyone and reduced to a crazed, homeless wanderer—her lips curled up in satisfaction.
Zale stared at her in shock and disbelief.
How could she distort the truth so easily?
No doubt, he was guilty of not giving his family a carefree and rich life, but he didn't deserve such harsh retaliation from her.
Mira and their children had never worked beneath the scorching sun.
Zale did all the heavy work at home without complaining.
He even took up hourly labor jobs just to save money, planning to open a small grocery store in a nearby town.
But when he returned home after negotiating with the seller, he found the money gone.
Mira had spent all his savings on her father's hospital bills after his father-in-law broke his leg repairing a rooftop.
They had a huge argument at home, but nothing good came out of it. That money was never returned to him.
After that, Zale took control of the household finances.
No matter how much Mira screamed, cried, or made a scene, he didn't give in.
Never, even in his dreams, had he thought that her resentment could go so far as to harm her own son just to hurt him.
And so, Aden—the child who resembled him the most—became a victim.
My poor son, Aden…
Zale couldn't even bring himself to think about the torture the little boy must have endured.
God… his son was just six.
He wondered if the child had called out to him in pain.
The small, lively child in his memory—beaten, despised, and trapped somewhere he couldn't reach, living in the dirtiest corner.
The pain pierced his heart like a thorn.
My poor son… I'm sorry. This is all my fault. If only I had known.
A low, broken sound escaped his throat.
"Ukkk… Ukkk…"
The suffocating pain in his chest made it hard for him to breathe.
Zale snapped his eyes open, his hand clutching his chest tightly.
It felt so real. As if he had lived it himself.
A neglected child slowly becoming numb to life...
the despair of losing his son...
the bitterness of being abandoned in old age.
Even an ordinary death was denied to him, dying with open eyes filled with hatred and unwillingness.
A pathetic life.
Sensing the sticky feeling on his face, he touched it.
It turned out to be his own tears.
He didn't even know when he had started crying.