When Love Becomes a Thing of the Past (Zoey) novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

Perhaps because he had shared his own family story so openly, I found myself willing to 

speak. 

“My mother passed away,” I said hesitantly. “And my father, like yours, severed ties with 

me.” 

That year, at my mother’s funeral, a sea of black–clad mourners filled the hall. The officiant delivered a lengthy eulogy, but my mind drifted halfway through. I remember looking at my mother’s photograph – her gentle smile seeming to reach out to me – and I smiled back. 

The next instant, my father’s hand struck me to the ground. 

“Your mother is dead!” he roared. “How dare you smile?” 

Every eye in the room turned to me as if I were some kind of monster. Terror gripped me. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. 

The first year after her death, my father would sit in the living room at night, poring over her letters and photographs. By the second year, he had packed her bongings into boxes and pushed them into a forgotten corner. By the third year, he had remarried. 

My new stepmother dragged the boxes into the yard, declaring she would burn them all. I desperately salvaged what I could from the pile, clutching my mother’s camera to my chest 

The flames left their mark on my skin. 

That camera became all I had left of her. 

Later, my half–sister was born. The family’s attention shifted entirely to her. I grew up like a shadow, turning eighteen without anyone noticing. 

enrolled in medical school. On move–in day, my father handed me a thick envelope. 

“You’re an adult now,” he said. “Don’t come back.” 

When Love Becomes a Thing of the Past 

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Chapter 10 

nodded and counted it – thirty thousand dollars. The price of severing our blood ties. 

At university, professors and classmates praised my aptitude for medicine, noting how I remained composed in any situation. When I began practicing, this became my trademark 

strength. 

I let out a small sigh. These memories, buried so deep, had never been shared before. 

Joseph’s brow furrowed, the usual hint of mischief vanishing from his expression. His voice 

carried an unusual gravity. 

“Zoey, don’t you realize? You were only five years old.” 

I froze. “What?” 

“Laughing and crying are a child’s birthright,” he said softly. “You’ve been holding yourself back because no one ever let you be a child.” 

His gentle words hit me like lightning. 

After the funeral, my father had stopped speaking to me. When my sister arrived, my needs were always secondary. Through college, I juggled studies with surv couldn’t recall a single moment when I’d been allowed to simply be a child. 

Thinking back, I 

I lowered my head. “Maybe so… but I’m grown now. I can’t act like a child anymore. To laugh when I want, cry when I want…” 

Before I could finish, a sudden jolt shot through my ribs, like a spark of electricity. I yelped 

in surprise and spun around. 

Joseph had poked my side, wearing an impish grin. “Says who?” 

I tried to dodge, but he caught me. It was as if he’d found some hidden switch – I couldn’t 

stop giggling, no matter how hard I tried to maintain composure. The laughter burst out of me like air from a balloon. 

“Stop! No more! It tickles! Hahaha… please!” 

hapter in 

struggled to escape but found myself cornered. Tears of laughter streamed down my face.