The Day My Daughter Celebrated Chapter 8

When David and I reached the river bridge, it was drizzling.

Stella stood outside the railing, swaying precariously.

Her hair was plastered wetly to her face, her complexion ghostly white.

Police were talking to her, trying to stabilize her emotionally.

"Stella!" I rushed forward, my voice shaking.

Hearing me, her body jerked violently. She turned around.

Seeing me, her eyes held no joy at being saved—only deeper despair and shame.

"Don't come closer!" she screamed.

"Mom... I'm sorry..."

"I'm so sorry..."

She cried, her body swaying more dangerously, as if she might fall at any moment.

"I'm not human... those things I said... I'm an animal..."

"Stella, come down first! We'll talk at home!" Tears streamed down my face.

"I'm not going back!" she sobbed. "I can't face you! I can't face anyone!"

"I tore open your wound and displayed it for everyone to mock! What right do I have to live?"

"I'm just that criminal's continuation—like him, dirty and disgusting!"

She grew more agitated, one foot already dangling in air.

My heart nearly stopped beating.

At this critical moment, David suddenly shouted toward the water below.

"A boat's coming!"

Everyone froze for a moment, instinctively looking down.

In that instant of Stella's distraction, two officers lunged forward, grabbed her arms firmly, and dragged her back over the railing.

My legs gave out and I collapsed to the ground.

Stella was pinned to the ground by the officers. She didn't struggle, just buried her face in her arms, letting out suppressed, painful whimpers.

Like when she was little.

Back home, she developed a high fever.

Lying in bed, she talked deliriously.

Sometimes crying, sometimes laughing.

"Joy Day... haha, Joy Day..."

"Mom... I'm sorry... don't abandon me..."

I sat by the bed, changing the towel on her forehead, awake all night.

Looking at her flushed face, I painfully confirmed.

We were both trapped in that "Joy Day," neither of us able to escape.