Chapter 4 Had Enough of This House
Cora’s father stood frozen in the doorway.
He started to reach for them—then stopped halfway, his hand trembling, eyes darting away.
Cora felt the last of her warmth drain out.
If even her father wouldn’t protect them, what kind of home was this?
He had always been this way—weak, apologetic, and helpless. Every time her mother was beaten or scolded, he’d either stand aside in silence or kneel later, begging forgiveness that changed nothing.
Enough.
She’d had enough.
This house was a graveyard for hope.
A father too afraid to speak, a grandmother too cruel to stop, and a mother too broken to run.
Her father finally managed a pitiful plea.
“Mom, please… if you keep hitting them, who’ll take care of you?”
Ravi shouted, “I’m not dead yet! I can take care of myself. I want them gone—gone for good!”
That was it.
Cora made up her mind right then: she would take her mother away, and they would never come back.
She turned to help her mother up—but her mother was already on her knees again, crawling toward Ravi, clutching at the old woman’s legs.
“Mom, I’ve taken care of you all these years. Please don’t throw us out.”
Ravi raised her foot to kick her away, but her mother held on tight, voice breaking.
“Please, just this once—spare us! Cora knows she was wrong. It’ll never happen again!”
Cora looked at the scene—her mother groveling, her grandmother sneering, her father sitting in silence with a cigarette between his fingers—and felt something inside her finally snap.
She couldn’t stay.
Without another word, she grabbed her unopened suitcase and walked out.
She still had a job in the city. She would work, save money, and one day come back to take her mother away.
⸻
On the long bus ride back, Cora’s tears wouldn’t stop.
Her phone buzzed.
“Cora, what’s going on? Why haven’t you answered my calls? I’m doing fine here. Call me when you see this. Love, Matt.”
Her grip tightened around the phone until her knuckles went white.
Her heart ached so badly she could barely breathe.
But the words let’s break up refused to leave her lips.
Four years of love—how could she end it with a single sentence?
Love wasn’t a balloon you could pop and pretend it never existed.
So she hid like a coward, ignoring his calls, letting them ring again and again while she curled deeper into her silence.
⸻
After a day of rest, Cora forced herself back to work.
Her bruises had faded, but the dull ache in her back lingered.
Still, she needed the distraction.
Her job was menial but steady—ordering milk, coffee, and juice for everyone in the administrative office, wiping down desks, delivering files.
Whenever someone had extra work they didn’t want, they dumped it on her.
And Cora never refused.
She stayed late, finished everything, and never complained.
She was an ordinary, humble girl with no Ivy League background—just grateful to have a position in an international conglomerate that spanned the U.S., Asia, and Europe.
Time slipped by.
The endless busyness dulled her pain until that night began to feel like a nightmare she’d finally woken from.
Every morning, she brought coffee and juice to her colleagues’ desks, neatly arranged the files she’d finished the night before, and greeted everyone with a polite, “Morning.”
No one ever replied.
She’d grown used to that too.
⸻
Suddenly, the head of administration burst through the door.
“Emergency meeting! Mr. Watson’s called a board session—everyone, move! Cora, you too!”
Cora blinked, startled, then hurried to follow.
Her coworkers shoved their files into her arms before running off, laughing.
They always did that—dumped everything on her, then strutted out as if they’d done their share.
Cora didn’t complain.
Balancing a stack of folders that towered over her head, she jogged toward the elevator, mumbling apologies as she bumped into people.
When the doors opened, she stumbled after the crowd, clutching the pile that nearly blocked her view.
They were halfway to the massive conference room when someone shouted—
“Mr. Watson’s here!”
