Chapter 1

Hazel's POV

By six thirty in the morning, I had already finished cooking breakfast. But my stomach hurt so badly that I peeled a boiled egg and swallowed it just to ease the pain.

Half an hour later, right as I finished dressing my grandson, Finn Reynolds, my son Colin Reynolds exploded at me and told me to get out.

“Mom, you actually stole a pickled egg? If you can’t stop this filthy habit, then get out!”

I stammered, explaining that my stomach hurt, and I grabbed the wrong egg by accident, and that I’d replace it when I bought groceries later.

But he wouldn’t hear any of it. “Stole it and still lying about it. Don’t make me laugh. My mom would never touch the garbage eggs from the street market, so what are you going to replace it with?”

His mother-in-law, Agnes Langley, sat elegantly at the dining table and motioned for me to serve her food.

“What are you staring at? Go get my bowl.”

Colin barked orders at me, and Finn mimicked him, swinging his little hand and smacking my face.

“Bad Grandma! Go away! Go away!”

Agnes laughed softly and suggested, “If you wanted a pickled egg, you could’ve just said so. No need to sneak around. If you teach Finn bad habits, maybe it’s better if you go back to your hometown sooner.”

Looking at the family I had worked myself half to death caring for, I gently set my grandson down.

Clutching the passbook I had kept hidden all night, and the newly deposited two million inside, I decided I really would go back home.

——

No more explanations, I put my struggling grandson aside and turned toward my room.

Calling it a “bedroom” was generous, as it was basically a storage room beside the bathroom.

When I moved here from the countryside, Colin told me his mother-in-law had rheumatism and needed the master bedroom near the bathroom. And since he and his wife were “light sleepers,” they took the second bedroom farther from the door. As for their five-year-old son, they wanted him to “develop independence,” so he got the spacious, bright guest room.

And I, the mother who rose before dawn and worked past dark, the old peasant woman who took care of them, was shoved into a damp, cramped storage room built beside the toilet. A one-meter-wide cot and a folding screen I picked up from a neighbor were all I had.

Sitting on the creaking bed, I looked around and found that there wasn’t a single thing in that room that truly belonged to me.

I picked up the blue cloth bundle I brought with me when I moved to the city three years ago and walked out of the place that had trapped me ever since.

The door creaked open, and the four of them, eating happily at the dining table, slowly turned their heads to look.

“Bad Grandma opened the door! Daddy, hurry and scold her!”

Following Finn’s finger, Colin turned, a meat still in his fork, and shot me a look full of irritation.

“Why are you throwing a tantrum this early? It’s almost seven-thirty. Come eat and clean up.”

I looked at my son, his mouth greasy, and let out a breath I’d been swallowing for years.

Since the day I stepped into this house, I had never once eaten at that table I scrubbed countless times.

I still remember that first meal I tried to sit with them. I pulled out a chair and took the corner seat. But my daughter-in-law, Colette Reynolds, glanced at me in disgust and slammed her chopsticks down, glaring at Colin.

Instantly, he understood. “Mom, you’re from the village. Your hygiene isn’t great. From now on, eat over there,” he said, pointing to the short stool in the corner.

From that day on, the tiny stool beneath my grandson’s hamster cage became my “dining spot.”

Thinking about it now, my nose stung, so I quickened my steps toward the door.

“You steal food, and you're just leaving like that? A pickled egg costs a buck. But it’s wasted on you and would only turn into nothing but crap. My mom is generous enough not to be mad. So, what are you sulking about?”

When he said “my mom,” the ache in my chest only grew heavier.

To distinguish between me and his mother-in-law, my own son, the boy I carried for nine months and raised for twenty-seven years, called another woman “Mom.”

In the beginning, every time he said it, I couldn’t even tell who he meant, so I always turned around, ready to answer.

Chapter 2

Hazel's POV

As such, to make sure I never mixed up the two “moms” again, Colin even made rules for me. If I answered to the wrong one, he would cut my monthly allowance.

I still remember the first time I heard him call Agnes “my Mom” in that sweet, affectionate tone. Her smile bloomed like a late autumn chrysanthemum.

When Colin saw me staring at him in disbelief, he reluctantly turned to me and forced out a cold, stiff “Mom.”

In that moment, it felt like a wild cat slashed through my heart. But eventually, I got used to it.

My own son insisted on calling another woman “My mom,” and all I could do was swallow the pain and accept it.

When he realized I was serious about leaving, Colin finally lifted his heavy body from the chair. His eyes went wide, and he shouted at me with his whole throat.

What he said next, like something only a brute would say, made me stop in my tracks.

“So, you’ve grown some nerve now? Fine, leave if you want, but anything from my house stays. I’m checking you before you go.”

Before I even processed his words, Colin grabbed my coat with his greasy hands.

“This wool coat is my mom’s. Take it off.”

So, that was it. He wanted the old, faded wool coat his mother-in-law had tossed to me like charity.

I silently slipped it off and dropped it onto the floor.

His face darkened as he scanned my clothes, searching for anything else he could claim.

He muttered for a long moment but found nothing.

Then, behind him, Agnes smiled sweetly and said, “Her bra. I bought the bra she’s wearing.”

A cold shiver went through me. I glared at that vicious woman.

“If you’re leaving, then follow the rules,” she said lightly. “Give back everything that belongs here. That bra wasn’t cheap after all.”

When Colin was little, we were very poor, and his body developed slowly. So, to help him grow, I breastfed him until he was five. It drained my body, left my chest permanently ruined, but I never complained.

Half a month ago, when the bras I brought from home were falling apart, I finally forced myself to ask my son to buy me a new one. Predictably, he only yelled at me and did nothing.

It was Agnes who stepped in. She took the seventy bucks Colin gave her and dragged me to a lingerie shop. She tried on bras for herself the entire afternoon and spent sixty-seven dollars on a leopard-print one and a lace one.

Then she pulled me into a narrow alley, grabbed some random bargain-bin bra, held it up to my chest, and used the remaining three bucks to buy me two tiny, tight, scratchy ones that cut into my skin.

The moment she finished reminding everyone of it, Colin’s face flashed with embarrassment.

I said calmly, “She’s right. I’m wearing one, and the other is in my bundle.”

I then threw the wrinkled bra onto the ground and looked him straight in the eye.

“Do you want me to take off the one I’m wearing too?”

He hesitated for three seconds, then waved his hand. “Forget it. Just go.”

But Colette shrieked, “Absolutely not! That cost seventy bucks. You can’t let her steal it! If she gets away with this, next time she’ll take something even more expensive. She’ll drag us down with her!”

“Colin, Colette is right. She’s choosing to leave, so she shouldn’t take even a needle or a thread from this house,” Agnes added.

Colin looked between the two women, then pointed at me. “They’re right. That cost seventy bucks. You’re not taking it.”

Then he sighed impatiently. “Mom, stop making trouble. We’re going to be late for work. It was one pickled egg, but I’m letting that go. Don’t throw a tantrum.”

When I still didn’t give in, his face turned pitch black. “You really want to leave? Then hurry up and take it off. Stop wasting my time.”

Chapter 3

Hazel's POV

The moment I heard his words, a coldness spread through my chest. It crept into my limbs, like thousands of tiny ants biting their way through my bones.

My body trembled as I turned around. Ignoring the burning stares behind me, I stood in front of the half-open bedroom door and began taking off my clothes, one piece at a time.

“Ew! So ugly! Just like a dead rat!” Finn shouted.

Colette’s disgusted voice followed immediately. “Everything she takes off is filthy. Gross. Don’t let it dirty the floor. Hurry and sweep that trash out.”

Obedient as ever, Colin grabbed the broom he had never touched before and swept my two bras across the floor as though they were garbage.

Seeing me still standing there, Agnes’s sharp gaze landed on me. “Aren’t you leaving? What are you dawdling for? Don’t tell me you’re waiting to pick up whatever Colin sweeps out. Try it, I’ll call the police and have you arrested, you old thief.”

I shot her one fierce look, picked up my blue cloth bundle, and started toward the door.

But Colin stopped me, saying, “Wait. I haven’t checked that bundle yet.”

Then he snatched it from my arms and shook everything out onto the floor. Something glass hit the ground with a crisp shatter.

Hearing that, I dropped to my knees, reaching for the small two-inch photo frame I touched every day.

“Sweetheart, check that frame. Maybe she’s hiding something inside,” Colette said lazily.

With her command, Colin grabbed the frame right out of my hands.

With a sharp snap, the only photo I had left of my husband split clean in two.

“You beast! That was your father’s last picture. How dare you?!” I screamed.

But Colin ignored my anger and threw the broken frame onto the floor. “He’s dead. What’s there to treasure? For all I know, you’re hiding stolen things behind it.”

Hearing him insult my dead husband, rage exploded inside me, and I raised my hand to slap him.

But he managed to step back, shouting, “You thief! You dare hit me? If you weren’t my mom, I would’ve had you thrown in jail already!”

He kept ranting, his breath hot with anger. “Early in the morning and you start drama. Now I’m going to be late for work. What else do you want? Old as you are, you still can’t fix your nasty habits. Always causing trouble. If I hadn’t pitied you, you’d still be starving in that broken-down mountain village.”

But the truth was far from what he claimed.

He had needed money to buy a home in the city, to start his life. And for his future, I gritted my teeth and sold the three-story house his father and I worked our whole lives to build.

When Finn was born, Agnes didn’t want to take care of him. She talked big about paying for a nanny, but after two months she gave up. So, I volunteered to be their free, full-time caretaker.

If I hadn’t given him money and worked myself like an ox, would he be living this comfortably today?

But now he saw himself as the one who “saved” me.

The more I thought, the angrier I became. My raised hand finally came down hard.

But after that, a sharp pain shot through my back, and I cried out.

Colin glared at me with fury. “You miserable old hag, you actually hit me? You’ve completely lost your mind. Go, then! And don’t come crawling back later! Even if you kneel and beg me, I won’t let you step into my house again.”

When he finished, he spat a thick glob of phlegm onto me, and Finn peed warm urine all over me.

Seeing my humiliation, the whole family looked satisfied as they slammed the door shut.

Through the wood of the door, I heard Agnes’s fake, syrupy voice saying, “Colin, wasn’t that a bit much? You young people should be more patient. Maybe you should coax her. It was just one egg. Just let it go.”

Colin snapped back angrily, “Don’t bother with her. If she had even half your kindness, she wouldn’t embarrass us like this. Just wait, she’ll come crawling back before the day’s over.”

Chapter 4

Hazel's POV

Hearing the pride in Colin’s voice made my heart clench hard, as if someone twisted it with their bare hands. The pain pulsed again and again.

I wiped the dirt from my face and pulled the tiny shards of glass embedded in my palm.

Just then, my old flip phone rang. When I saw the caller ID, I limped toward the elevator and headed downstairs.

“Hello, are you Ms. Hazel Reynolds?”

The driver waiting for me quickly opened the car door, gently taking the blue cloth bundle from my arms and placing it in the back seat.

“Miss, you’re hurt? Don’t move. I’ll bandage it for you.”

Since my husband passed away, no one had cared about my cuts or bruises.

Just last month, when Agnes wanted sturgeon for dinner, I injured my hand killing the fish.

While I searched for a bandage, she mocked me. “Isn’t it normal for a country woman to get a few cuts on her hands? What, a few days of city life made you delicate?”

Colin rummaged around impatiently. “She’s right. It’s just a scratch. No need for a bandage.”

But even when I pressed hard with toilet paper, the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. Thick drops hit the floor, staining the tiles I had just scrubbed to a shine.

Colette, fresh manicure and all, tossed the sturgeon into the trash with disgust. “It’s covered in your filthy blood. Totally inedible now. Sweetheart, Mom, there’s a new restaurant nearby. Let’s go. Let her scrub the floors clean. If she doesn’t, I’m throwing these boards out.”

Just like that, the three of them strutted out, leaving me alone pressing on the wound.

It took me half an hour for the bleeding to stop. Once I wrapped my hand in cloth, I crouched on the floor and cleaned the stains with cold water.

My vision blurred with tears, real tears I hadn’t shed in so long. As I sat on the leather seat of the car now, the driver handed me a tissue.

“Miss, here.”

I panicked and began scrubbing at the seat. “I’m so sorry. I dirtied your car. I’ll wipe it clean.”

He frowned slightly, gently taking the tissue and wiping my tears instead. “This is for your eyes.”

I thanked him softly.

Then the car began moving, streetlights and unfamiliar buildings flashing past outside the window.

Then, slowly, familiar scenery appeared.

“Miss, we’re almost there. If the air feels stuffy, I can roll down the window.”

A cool, damp breeze rushed in, stirring memories I had buried deep.

The house back in my hometown had been sold, so Colin was sure I had nowhere left to go. That was why he pushed me out so confidently, certain I’d come crawling back.

But he didn’t know that compared to that empty old house, this row of white buildings, now coming into view, was my real home.

The moment I stepped out of the car, familiar faces hurried toward me. They grabbed my hands, one after another, their warmth pouring into my heart. The wounds left by my son and his family suddenly felt a little less cold.

Just as I was about to greet them, my phone rang again. I checked the caller ID and saw it was my son.

I looked at the warm faces in front of me and then remembered his twisted expression as he drove me out with hateful words.

Without thinking twice, I hurled my heavy old phone into the green pond.

What now? Not even a day has passed, and he already wants me crawling back?

That hellhole, I would never step into it again.