My Parents Neglected Me Until I Died Novel by yueji

I placed the roses at Anna’s grave and took out the notebook from my bag, handing it to him. Damian stood frozen, like a robot, as he took the notebook and opened it. The familiar handwriting, brimming with endless pain and sorrow, hit him like a wave.

“May 7: We’re going abroad! The participants are Damian and me. It’s a pity Stella has to work overtime; otherwise, she could have joined us. I have this feeling that Damian seems quite nervous, even though it’s not our first time traveling abroad. It’s making me nervous too.”

“Ahhh! Today is such a happy day! Why? Because Damian proposed to me! It’s a huge surprise! I’m going to love him for a lifetime!”

The next entry is dated much later, about a year or so.

“What should I do? I can’t find Damian. Where is he?”

Much later, it reads: “I’m feeling unwell, went to the hospital, confirmed it’s stomach cancer. What should I do? I still haven’t found him.”

“Seen him now, but he’s getting married. I wish him happiness, but my stomach hurts so much.”

And then, there are no more entries.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you wait for me? Why…”Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Standing by, I watched as Damian wept uncontrollably beside the grave. I felt drained. 1 had exacted my revenge, and things had turned out exactly as I had anticipated–he was consumed by guilt, remorse, and sorrow.

Yet, no one was at fault here; it was merely the cruelty of fate that kept two lovers apart.

After a moment, I said, “It’s all in the past now. People must move forward. Anna would want you to be well.”

It seemed my words had an effect. After a long while, Damian, like a ghost, trudged away. Out of respect for Anna, I reluctantly took him home.

I didn’t hear from him for a long time. The final time I did was a call from the hospital. Damian had committed suicide. He had called the hospital himself, leaving only a final breath.

This time, his friend, someone I knew–a childhood buddy of Damian’s–came to handle his affairs. We exchanged a look of shared sorrow. At least, in death, they could be together.

– End –