Lindsay glanced at me, her face flashing with impatience.

Nick looked surprised, then put on a fake smile. "Santos? Are you here to pick up Lindsay?"

I looked down. "No."

I tried to leave, but Lindsay grabbed my hand and complained, "Why are you watching me like a hawk? I'm just helping a friend. Did you follow me here? Afraid I'm cheating?"

She thought I was there for her. I used to hate her meeting Nick and always tried to keep them apart.

I didn't care anymore. I brushed her hand off like a speck of dust. "Excuse me."

I wanted no more to do with them, but Nick wasn't done.

He stepped forward. "Santos, Kim cried for his mom all day yesterday. I had Lindsay check on him. He's got a fever, so we came to the hospital. Nothing is going on. Don't be mad."

Lindsay frowned. "Why tell him all that? It's none of his business where I go."

Strangely, I wasn't trying to butt in. I didn't get why they were making excuses. "Well, have a nice time. Can I go now?"

Nick jumped back in shock. Lindsay snapped, "Santos, where are your manners? Nick's just explaining. Why the attitude?"

What was wrong with my attitude?

I felt dead tired. I didn't want to argue or explain. With my mother's death notice in my hand, I just wanted to take her home.

I ignored Lindsay and walked past her. Her face finally changed. She tried to stop me. "Don't be angry, Santos. When Kim's better, I'll visit your mom with you. Didn't she say she missed me?"

So, Lindsay knew. She knew my mother missed her but ignored it, using it as a bargaining chip.

I looked at her coldly. "Aren't you the one making me angry?"

Lindsay seemed surprised by my tone. She licked her lips nervously. I couldn't be bothered to hear her excuses. I turned to leave, but then a sharp pain shot through me.

"Ah!" The child Lindsay was holding yanked my hair hard. I'd fainted in the snow yesterday and barely eaten. I was weak as a kitten. The pull made me stumble back into Lindsay.

The boy let out an ear-splitting wail.

"Daddy! It hurts! He hit me on purpose! My hand hurts!"

"Santos! Kim's just a child!" Lindsay backed away, shielding the boy.

Nick rushed over and shoved me hard. I fell on my butt, pain shooting through me. I looked up to see Lindsay comforting the child while Nick fretted over his hand. "Does it hurt, Kim? I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I didn't think he'd hurt a child."

Nick glared at me. "Santos, I know you don't like Lindsay and me together. But Kim's innocent. How could you do this to a four-year-old child?"

I stared at the boy in Lindsay's arms. He was draped over her, making faces at me. Did a four-year-old child really know nothing?

If so, how could he pinch his own hand purple and then blame me? How could he repeatedly bump Lindsay's belly when she was pregnant? If he hadn't scattered marbles in my house on purpose, how could my mother have slipped?

I couldn't help but laugh. Only Lindsay would see him as an innocent child.

I found it darkly funny. Because of them, I'd lost my mother forever.

I slowly pulled myself up. Lindsay's anger seemed to fade as she remembered something. Her tone softened, and she tried to help me up. "Are you okay? Does it hurt? Should we check you out?"

"No need. I'm leaving," I said coldly.

"Check your messages." I'd decided to divorce her and had a lawyer prepare the papers.

Lindsay relaxed when I mentioned the messages. She probably thought I was going to make some demand.

She patted the child. "Okay, I'll check out soon."

I glanced at her and then left without another word.

This time, Lindsay didn't try to stop me.

As I turned the corner, I heard Lindsay on the phone with her secretary. "Which gift did Santos pick out for his mother before? Yeah, wrap that up for me."

It turned out that when a person was cremated, the ashes were so small.

A little urn held all my memories of my mother.

I stared blankly at the urn in my hands. Was this really my mother, once connected to me by blood and flesh? How could it be so small and light? The doctor tried to comfort me, saying my mother had passed out completely before she died and didn't feel much pain. But it shouldn't have been like this.

I hugged the urn to my chest, and tears streamed down my face. "I'm sorry, Mom. It's my fault. I couldn't save you."

I went home and packed my things. I didn't touch anything Lindsay bought for me. I only took the beads I got for my mother when she first got sick.

It was the only thing that belonged to her.

I took the beads and went downstairs. The living room was brightly lit, and I could faintly hear the laughter of children. My heart skipped a beat, and I rushed downstairs. There I saw Nick's son jumping on the living room table. His eyes wandered to the urn. He reached out to open it.

"Don't touch it!" I rushed over and slapped his hand away.

The loud smack echoed in the living room. Kim's hand swelled immediately. He stood there stunned for a moment, then opened his mouth and started crying loudly. Lindsay stood up and pushed me away. "What are you doing?"

I held the urn tightly and glared at Lindsay. "Who let you touch my things?"

Lindsay scoffed, "It's just a stupid box. What's the big deal if he touched it?"

Kim kept crying, demanding the urn. Lindsay reached out to grab it, but I held it tightly and finally couldn't help but push her hard.

"How dare you push me!" Lindsay gasped. I glared at her, my eyes filled with hatred. She seemed startled by the look in my eyes but quickly shouted, "It's just a box. I'll buy you another one if you want it so badly.

"You're fighting over something with a child."

I clung to the urn. It was my lifeline, the only thing I wanted to protect now.

Lindsay finally sensed a bit of unease seeing my crazed expression. She grabbed my hand tightly. "What are you doing? Look at yourself! Do you think you still look like a man? Are you fit to be my husband?"

I looked at her coldly. "Then let's get a divorce!"

Lindsay looked up at me sharply. "Are you crazy?"

She seemed shocked that I, usually so mild-tempered, would say such a thing. She sneered, "Threatening me? Do you think you can get a divorce just because you say so?"

Her eyes fell on my face as she gently touched her belly. "If you dare to divorce me, you'll never see this child after it's born.

"Santos, I mean it!

"If you listen to me, I'll give you whatever you want."

She always knew how to manipulate me, giving me a stick and a carrot. She would ignore me for days and then give me a small gift, like training a dog.

But now, I didn't care about anything. She didn't know that the child in her belly wasn't mine. That night, she and Nick went out drinking. She got drunk and was abandoned by Nick on the roadside, where she was assaulted by some thugs.

I never told her, afraid the truth would break her. She always thought the child was mine.

But now, I no longer cared to protect her. She couldn't control me anymore.

Maybe I had been silent for too long, but Lindsay seemed unusually impatient. "What do you want? Are you trying to make Nick leave?"

Nick's face stiffened. "Lindsay, do you really want me to leave? It's his fault! He hit Kim!"

He glared at me. "It's just a box!"

Nick rushed over and snatched the urn from my hands, then threw it hard to the ground.

The contents spilled out, ashes scattering everywhere. Nick looked disgusted and picked up a cushion, swatting it, making the ashes fly even more. "What is this? It's disgusting!"

"No!" I lunged forward, shoving Nick hard. He crashed into the table, scattering papers everywhere.

Lindsay exploded. "Santos!"

I knelt on the ground in despair, trembling hands trying to gather the ashes. But they were everywhere, mixed with dust, stripped of any dignity.

Lindsay sneered, "Is this pile of garbage worth all this fuss? Apologize to Nick!"

I ignored her. Lindsay took out her phone and called her secretary. "Draft a divorce agreement. After the child is born, it will be mine. Santos will never see the child again. Also, stop his mother's medication."

Her words were cut off. The hospital's death certificate lay conspicuously on the ground, mocking everything.

Lindsay bent down and picked up the thin paper. My mother's photo was printed on it.

[Death notice: patient died due to excessive blood loss.]