Julian snapped, “How long are you planning to throw a tantrum? Tiffany and I are just friends! Besides, I’m about to run for the hospital’s vice dean position. Are you trying to ruin everything for me? Can’t you be a little more understanding for once?” As he spoke, he lunged for the suitcase in my hand. I clutched it tightly, refusing to let him touch it. Inside were my daughter’s photo and her ashes. Even in death, I wouldn’t allow her to be disrespected. As we struggled, Tiffany seized the opportunity and rammed into me. Caught off guard, I stumbled back. The suitcase, already strained, burst open with a loud crack. My daughter’s ashes spilled across the floor. Tiffany took one step forward and snatched the urn. “You can’t be serious, Chloe. Did you go so far as to get a real urn to scare Julian? What is this? Is it baby formula or face powder inside?” I was fuming with anger. I lunged forward, but Julian blocked my path. I could only watch, helpless, as the ashes scattered across the ground. At that moment, I regretted not listening to my parents when they told me to bring bodyguards. Sobbing uncontrollably, I dropped to my knees and began gathering the ashes with my bare hands, trying desperately to return them to the broken urn. Julian stood there, stunned by my desperation. Finally, he said, “Tiffany didn’t do it on purpose. We can forget everything and let it go.” I sat there, laughing and crying all at once. “Julian, we can’t let this go. That was our daughter.”