Angered by the revelation that her daughter’s marital ceremony was sabotaged by greedy relatives who pilfered the funds she provided, Hazel is adamant about exposing their fraudulence and attaining retribution. She commits to a dogged pursuit to collect undeniable proof. Will this determined mother manage to disclose the truth and restore her daughter’s crushed hopes?
“I can’t fathom this,” I whispered, gazing at my computer display.
The ambiance of my kitchen in my Australian residence turned frigid as I viewed the images of Jinny’s marriage celebration.
I had always envisioned her special day as a magnificent event, but the reality before me was heart-wrenching.
Jinny’s nuptials occurred in a dilapidated café with synthetic furnishings, and she donned an unsightly gown that was ill-fitting.
I covered my face with my hands, overwhelmed by a blend of rage and sorrow. How could this occur?
I had accumulated a substantial sum to afford Jinny a lavish wedding. This was not what I had envisioned for her.
Suddenly, my mobile vibrated on the countertop, and I answered it, noting a message from a longtime companion in the States.
Needing someone to confide in, I dialed her number.
“Hello, Hazel! What’s your state of mind?” she inquired.
“It’s dismal, Jane,” I answered. “I just reviewed Jinny’s wedding photos, and they’re dreadful. They hosted it in a decrepit café, and she wore this atrocious gown. I contributed funds for an elegant wedding, Jane. What transpired?”
After a brief silence, she responded, “Hazel, I’ve caught wind of something about Diane and Charles. They possibly redirected the funds towards their household upkeep and vehicle.”
My spirits plummeted even lower. “What? They diverted Jinny’s wedding funds for their own use? How could they?”
“I’m unsure, Hazel, but you must unearth the facts. Perhaps speak with Jinny?”
“I intend to, Jane. I cannot let this pass. I must recuperate and head there. I need to rectify this disaster for Jinny.”
After terminating the call, I shut my laptop and inhaled deeply. I had to concentrate on recovering. I needed to support my daughter and rectify things.
Thus, each day marked a step toward recuperation.
I meticulously followed my physician’s guidance, took my medications punctually, and rested extensively.
I even commenced light exercises to rebuild my strength.
Weeks morphed into months, and my health progressively restored. The resolve to assist Jinny empowered me.
Eventually, I contacted my travel agent and booked a flight to the USA, despite residual hesitations and fears.
“You can achieve this, Hazel,” I murmured to myself while packing. “For Jinny.”
I was determined to be strong for my child.
When I finally arrived at her doorstep in the USA, my heart pounded.
I hadn’t informed her of my arrival, aiming to surprise her. I inhaled deeply and knocked.
Upon her opening the door, her eyes widened in astonishment. “Mom?” she uttered, tears emerging.
“Jinny, my dear,” I embraced her tightly. I could sense her shivering, a wave of joy and relief engulfing her. “I’m here, and I won’t depart until we rectify this,” I declared.
We entered, and I observed the sadness in her eyes.
The home was orderly, yet a palpable gloom lingered.
We settled on the sofa, and I grasped her hands.
