style="font-size:15px;"> Yeri stops, turns around and yells at her mother-in-law:
- And you? But she is the woman who will know a family to achieve her low intentions of having her spoiled, despicable son by her side! That monster was raised by you, you're responsible. You came here with your dreams of an American nationality, abandoned your roots, and then dragged my Yaro and my beloved Ismat into this madness that ended badly. You know, it ended badly. His voice is strong, his face is exalted.
-Yeri, I... -The woman tried to defend herself.
- No justification on this earth will bring me back to my family. You dug their grave. You should have left us alone in Kenya.
- I just tried to give him a better life.
- You call that a better life? Please, just shut up.
- You kill me, Yeri, your truths kill me.
At that moment Yeri sees Munga's tears. He's starting to feel bad, but he's not saying anything, just shut up. The pain is deep.
After this Munga left. Yeri insisted on staying. She closed the whole house and plunged into the self-torture of going through all the memories of her loved ones through her things. I imagined them both in the kitchen, having breakfast, watching TV, taking a shower, leading a normal life. It was frustrating, but I needed that. A few hours later she fell into a deep sleep. The furniture was his bed, that's when he has nightmares.
In those dreams she plays hand in hand with her son and her husband in that park. They have fun at a fair, but the sky starts to get dark. Black hands coming out of the ground pull Ismat and he cries out, "Mom!" but inevitably he is swept away by that mystery. Wake up sweaty. She sits down and looks at her watch: its three o'clock in the morning.
She remembers vaguely that the tablet must be loaded, so she goes for it and turns it on.
To her surprise, it wasn't blocked, so they started getting all of Ismat's messages in.
Lots of messages from friends. His Facebook page was full of condolences for his departure, its cause for more tears.
There are several chat bubbles: one said "Pons", the others did not recognize them. She went into the girl's room and started reading, surprised. In those conversations she discovered that the young people had died when Pons went to Paris to study Dance. They confessed their love and had a beautiful relationship through chat conversations. Ismat dedicated beautiful songs to her, she danced for him. The last few conversations, however, had a mixture of bitter uncertainty: her claims for the young man's carelessness. Sometimes it took many days to connect.
The young lady in that photograph had been left behind. Apparently the tattoo was temporary. On her Facebook profile she appears renewed, fresh. His oriental features gave her a unique personality, stylized, thin but not malnourished. She looked pretty good.
Certain conversations in the last few days before Ismat's death had shown that the young man had taken a strange attitude. The claims were many.
Yeri sees the green dot going: Pons is connected. A curiosity invades him, so he writes.
- Hello.
It takes about 25 seconds.
- Who are you? What are you doing with the Ismat account? Respect the dead.
- I amâ¦
- I don't like this, it's sinister. Please stop using Ismat's account, let the dead rest.
- Did you love him?
- If you continue I will denounce you; what is more, I will block you.
-Wait, I'm.... Wait, don't block me.
He didn't have time, it was late.
The young lady complied and did the blockade. She could no longer see any publication of it from the Ismat account.
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