His Turbulent Wind of Love

Going to be the bridesmaid for my cousin.

When I was held hostage by a criminal, my mom was standing outside the door.

She angrily banged on my door. "Emily's husband used to be your boyfriend. If you don't be her bridesmaid, what will people think of her?"

I asked her if I died, would I be more important to her than Emily.

She responded coldly, "Now you're even learning to threaten, huh? If you want to die, do it after being the bridesmaid."

1

My cousin, Emily, was getting married to my boyfriend.

To prevent Emily from being criticized as a homewrecker, my mom volunteered me to be her bridesmaid.

"We're all family, don't be so petty. Look at yourself, with that long, dark face. Can you compare to Emily? Any man wouldn't choose you."

Seeing my silence, my mom glared at me, "Are you dead? Can't even nod your head? Talking to a dog is better than talking to you, at least it gives a reaction."

She didn't seem to like asking me why but was used to blaming me first to feel better.

So much so that she didn't notice anything unusual about me.

If she had looked closely, even a little, she would have noticed my evasive eyes, trembling hands, and the cold sweat dripping from my fingers onto the floor.

At that moment, a cold steel knife was pressed hard against my back.

I dug my nails into the doorframe and carefully said, "Help me."

But my mom impatiently turned her face away, "Can't you speak louder? So useless."

"Look at Emily. How graceful she is in her speech and actions. And then look at you. If you didn't resemble your dad, I'd seriously doubt you were switched at birth."

The knife pressed a few inches forward, causing sharp pain.

Through the halffoot wide door crack, just a few inches away, my mom sneered, "I've been standing here for so long, and you don't even open the door to let me in. After raising you for so many years, this is how you repay me? What's the use of having you?"

I bit my lip, tears welling up in my eyes, unable to say a word.

After scolding me, my mom turned and made a call, "Emily, don't worry. I saw Mia, and I'll make sure she will be your bridesmaid."

Emily was my biological cousin.

She devoured everything in my life like a nightmare.

Her gentle voice came through the phone, "Sorry to trouble Mia. Aunt, please thank her for me. Henry and I will treat her to dinner someday to thank her in person."

My mom finally smiled, her eyes forming crescent shapes. "No need to thank her. This is what she should do. She owes you and can never repay it in this lifetime."

They chatted and laughed, their voices low but piercing my heart.

A few minutes later, the call ended. When she turned to me, her eyes were cold and filled with disdain again.

She looked past me into the room, with suspicion and scrutiny. "Don't do anything disgraceful that would embarrass us."

After saying that, my mom left.

The door closed again, shutting off all my hope for survival.

An eighthourlong nightmare continued...

I don't know how much time passed, but my vision became dim and unclear, and my posture was awkwardly twisted.

My body felt like it was folded into several pieces, placed in a small, confined space.

I was a little scared, and in my struggle, my body floated up.

When I saw my dark yellow suitcase, I understood that those four jerks hadn't stopped because of my pleas.

My final resting place was this dark yellow suitcase, now thrown into the bathroom corner.

"Oh God, why do you make me witness my own miserable state even after death?"

My soul floated in midair, wandering around the room, once again seeing my rented apartment clearly.

The room was a mess, with the disgusting stench of blood and sweat lingering on the floor and bed.

It was already daytime outside, though I didn't know which day it was.

The door creaked open, the rusted iron making a piercing sound, pulling my thoughts back.

My mom's voice rose a few decibels, and I could tell she was very angry. "Mia, get out here! Are you dead? Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"Emily's wedding is in two days. Don't mess it up. If you embarrass her, I won't forgive you."

It was Emily again. Since I was ten, these words were etched on my forehead, intertwined with my fate.

Hearing these words made me feel physically nauseous.

I floated to the doorway and saw two more people entering with my mom.

My dad and Emily.

Emily held my mom's arm, like a close motherdaughter pair.

My dad followed behind, constantly wiping sweat from his forehead. "What kind of place did Mia rent? There's not even an air conditioner."

"I told her to come back home, but she didn't listen and had to suffer out here."

Emily picked up a fan from the shoe rack, obediently fanning my parents, her face full of undisguised guilt. "Uncle, Aunt, please don't be mad. It's my fault that Mia got upset with you."

My mom's anger subsided in front of her favorite niece, and she sighed heavily.

"You don't need to defend her. I know exactly what she's like. She's just trying to make things difficult."

"We spoiled her too much before, which made her so willful. Otherwise, your father and your leg..."

My mom's eyes reddened as she spoke, and Emily's tears fell first.

"Don't blame Mia; she didn't mean it."

How genuinely touching.

If I weren't the one involved, I might have been moved by her pitiful appearance and felt sorry for her.

I had often wished that it had been me who died or lost a leg in that car accident.

Would that have been the only way to avoid this current pain?

Seeing that I didn't respond.

My mom angrily rushed into the bedroom, her face changing drastically when she saw the scene, smashing a white porcelain cup on the table in fury.

My dad's face turned visibly ashen as he awkwardly paced around the room before finally leaving.

"I'll go downstairs for a smoke and wait for you in the car."

Oh, I remembered. There were some revealing nightgowns, stockings, and some tools on my nightstand, brought by those people.

Emily held my mom's hand tightly, trying to defend me, "Aunt, Mia isn't like that. Don't overthink it."

Her defense only confirmed my mom's suspicions.

The veins on the back of my mom's hand bulged as she clenched her fist, trying to calm herself before calling me again.

Once, twice, three times...

The phone was still off.

"Mia, you're so disgusting."

Her words were like barbed steel needles, piercing my skin and stabbing into my limbs.

It hurt so much...

But Mom.

I was already dead, my body right in front of you.

If you had a bit of patience with me, you'd realize that the yellow suitcase shouldn't be in the bathroom corner.

You bought me that suitcase.

Back then, I was your Mia darling. You said I was the most important person in your life.

You said you'd take me to see the world, and give me the best things in life.

You bought me this suitcase on our first trip together. Don't you remember any of that?

The memories flooded my mind uncontrollably.

They made me restless and irritable. I wanted to rush over, grab her hand, and shout, "Look! Look, your daughter is right in front of you, in that suitcase you bought me!"

But as a soul, I could only helplessly pass through her body, unable to touch her at all.

She couldn't hear my hysterical cries.

Just like that car accident when I was ten, it was my fault because I survived unscathed.

No matter how I explained, you always said one thing.

"If you hadn't been so willful and made your uncle take you to the amusement park, he wouldn't have died, and Emily wouldn't have lost a leg."

"It's all your fault. You're a sinner, and you can never atone for your sin, even in death."

You brought Emily home and said I had to take good care of her to honor my uncle's memory and atone for my sins.

There was no elevator at home, and I, shorter than Emily, carried her on my back for three years.

Five floors, I was really tired.

When I couldn't hold on and fell, you scolded me for being useless, for being a jinx, and for deliberately opposing you.

But you didn't even glance at my bleeding knees.

"Mom, I'm dead now, and I died horribly. Can my sins be considered atoned for?"

I was so tired.

My phone was still off. After making a dozen calls, my mom's face grew increasingly grim, as if someone was choking her.

It was only when Emily gently patted her back that she calmed down a bit.

She took a deep breath and said angrily, "Don't worry, Emily. I will find her. I'll tie her up and bring her to your wedding if I have to."

"It's okay, Aunt. Even if Mia doesn't come, I won't blame her. After all, I'm the older sister, and I should take care of her."

My mom held her hand affectionately, "If Mia were half as sensible as you, I wouldn't worry about her all the time."

How ridiculous. I was the one who died horribly, the one folded into a suitcase.

Yet it was Emily who got comforted.

I felt restless and frantic, not wanting to exist in this world any longer.

They wouldn't care whether I was alive or dead.

I just wanted her to find me and bury me soon.

Fortunately, the next moment, my mom stood at the bathroom door, the suitcase right in front of her.

I was finally going to be discovered.

I stood in front of her, waving my hand desperately. "Come in and open it. You'll find me. I didn't mean to oppose you, I just... just died..."

My mom really walked towards the suitcase.

One step, two steps, getting closer, almost there...

At this moment, even though I was just a transparent soul, I still held my breath nervously.

"Mom, don't be mad if you get scared. I didn't mean it."

But, my mom didn't keep walking.

Emily grabbed her arm. "Aunt, Henry texted me. I need to go try on my wedding dress."

My mom seemed to realize something suddenly. She turned to Emily and gently reminded her, "Don't mention Mia to Henry. Don't let her impropriety affect their view of you."

"Let your uncle drive you. It's hot outside. Don't get tanned."

Emily went downstairs, and my mom watched her back with a loving smile.

Look, how considerate she was.

But...

She forgot that there was someone else who needed love.

My mom's smile faded along with Emily's figure, her face turning grim again.

She scanned my room with a look of disdain.

At that moment, the landlady, Nora, came into my room, smiling kindly as usual, "Mia is a good girl. Talk things out. Arguing solves nothing."

My mom returned a polite smile, "You've been fooled by her facade. I know my child best. She just acts good in front of others to make them think she's the victim."

"She was spoiled by us from a young age, which made her selfish and inconsiderate of others."

When my mom talked about me, she went on and on, eager to list all the ways I disappointed her.

To prove how much she suffered raising me.

Hearing these words, I felt calm.

I had heard them too many times growing up.

Nora smiled and said no more. She was about to leave when her gaze fell on the suitcase, and she stopped.

"Mia treasures this suitcase. Why is it in the bathroom? It's damp in there; the suitcase will get moldy."

I froze because Nora walked towards the suitcase. She was old and had a weak heart, unable to handle shocks.

"I'll take it out to the balcony to dry."