Revenge is best served cold (Jane and Jeremiah novel Chapter 1880

From the moment I came into this world, I sensed I was an error. My mother often stood by the window, eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for my father to come home. He had a routine of leaving early and returning late, and for a spell, they lived like any other couple, seemingly content.

During those days, we were like mice scurrying through a shadowy alley, confined to a house that never welcomed sunlight. It felt like a prison for both my mother and me.

I can still picture the day she took me to the market. She wore a stunning dress my father had given her. Before life took its turns, she was a dancer, and when she moved, it was like watching a butterfly take flight—absolutely mesmerizing.

But at the market, whispers and pointing fingers followed us everywhere.

"That's her—the one kept by some man, had a kid without getting married."

"She was a dancer, snagged a rich guy, and quit. Dressed up like that, she's clearly out to catch a man."

As the gossip buzzed around, my mother shielded my ears with her hands. But I was old enough to pick up on the disdain in their eyes, almost as if we were some sort of aberration.

"Hey, how much for a pound of these veggies?" my mom asked a stern-faced woman at a stall. The woman scowled and snapped, "Not selling to you. Try somewhere else."