The house was on fire.

My husband–a firefighter–rescued our son first. And the kitten his first love had left behind.

Then, to comfort the frightened woman, he rushed off without a second thought.

When his colleagues asked my son if anyone else was still inside, he glanced in my direction… and shook his head.

"There's no one else."

I was later found screaming for help, barely alive.

Outside my hospital room, my son looked at me with disappointment.

"Why didn't you just burn to death in there?

"If you were gone, Aunt Maya could be my mom."

When I heard my son say something so cruel in that soft, childish voice, my whole body began to tremble.

"Dominic Hayes, I'm your mother. How can you treat me like this?"

On his small face–so strikingly similar to Leo Hayes's–there was a flicker of disgust.

"So what if you're my mom? You've never been good to me anyway! I wish you'd just die already. Then Dad could marry Aunt Maya."

He let out a cold snort and pressed his hand against the wound on my lower abdomen.

Five years ago, I gave birth to him, enduring pain that felt like my body was being torn apart, leaving behind a long scar across my stomach.

Five years later, he pressed down on that very same spot.

Only when my face twisted in agony did he finally smile, satisfied.

"Think of this as punishment for taking Aunt Maya's place!"

"I'm going to see Cupcake now. Stay here by yourself, you bad woman!"

With that, Dominic turned and walked out.

The hospital room fell silent again, leaving me alone.

I stared up at the stark white ceiling, the pain still tearing through me.

However, the pain in my body was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

I could hear nurses passing by outside, whispering among themselves.

They said I was pitiful–injured and lying here alone, without a single family member by my side, not even a caretaker.

They were right. I really was pitiful.

In the seven years I was married to Leo, what did I actually gain?

Neither he nor the son I nearly died to bring into this world cared about me. They both cared more about Maya Collins.

In their hearts, I did not even rank above her cat.

Just earlier, in that fire, I shielded Dominic and ended up pinned beneath a collapsing bookshelf.

As the flames crept along the fabric of my clothes and burned into my skin, Leo–captain of the fire brigade–charged into the blaze despite his teammates trying to stop him.

However, he did not even spare me a glance.

He took the unharmed Dominic, along with the cat Maya left at our home, and walked out of the fire without looking back.

I thought he would return for me. I waited, desperately clinging to hope–but all I heard was my son speaking to the other firefighters.

"Dominic, your dad already took the cat to the hospital. Tell us–is there anyone still inside?"

By then, the smoke nearly suffocated me.

Yet, for some reason, my son's voice reached me with perfect clarity.

"Uncle, there's no one left inside. You don't need to risk going in."

The other firefighters praised him for being such a sensible child.

However, inside that burning building, my heart turned ice cold.

No one left?

Just moments ago, I pushed him out of the way–that was the only reason the bookshelf did not crush him.

Why would he lie?

The suffocating smoke grew thicker. My instinct to survive forced me to gather what little strength I had left and cry out for help.

Thankfully, someone heard me.

I was rescued. I was brought to the hospital.

Yet, the son I cherished more than anything said he wished I would die.

My eyes grew damp.

After surviving death, it felt like I finally understood something.

What you could not force was not worth forcing anymore.

Whether it was Leo or Dominic.

I did not want them anymore.

I spent an entire month in the hospital.

I was trapped for too long–my lungs were damaged from inhalation, and they had to insert tubes to clear them.

Every time they changed the dressings on my burns, it felt like a form of torture.

That single month dragged on like an entire year.

Yet for all that time, neither of them–the father nor the son–came to see me even once.

I tried to convince myself it did not matter.

However, whenever I saw families reunited, I could not help the quiet ache that crept into my chest.

The day I was discharged, sunlight poured over me, and for a moment, I felt dazed.

It reminded me of the first time I met Leo.

The weather was just as beautiful as it was today.

We met on a blind date–introduced through our parents' friends.

He was a firefighter. I was an elementary school teacher.

He was an only child. So was I.

He liked quiet things, liked reading.

I liked staying at home, watching movies, and tending to flowers.

Everything seemed to fall into place, as if it were meant to be.

We never ran out of things to talk about. And just like that, we ended up together.

However, on our wedding day, I saw a message on his phone.

The contact name was 'Maya.'

She wrote: [Congratulations. You finally got what you wanted.]

Leo stared at that message for a long time.

Back then, I did not think much of it.

I assumed she was just a close friend who could not attend the wedding–that was why he seemed so distracted.

It was not until this year, when she returned from overseas, that everything fell apart.

That night, after attending a class reunion, Leo lay in bed, crying out her name.

That was when I realized how naive–how ridiculous–I was.

Like a madwoman, I dug into their past.

Maya was his first love.

Their relationship was intense, unforgettable.

He was the quiet, well-behaved student.

She was a spoiled, headstrong, rich girl.

Academically, she lagged far behind.

Financially, he had to rely on hardship subsidies.

Even their interests could not have been more different.

Yet, despite everyone's opposition, these two opposite people stayed together–from high school all the way through college.

Until Maya went abroad for graduate school and broke up with him.

Two years later, after he started working, he agreed to a family-arranged blind date. That's when he met me.

That message–[you finally got what you wanted]–came from the moment they broke up.

As he watched her leave, Leo said he would not wait for her anymore.

From then on, he would be with someone suitable for marriage.

That person was me.

When I learned all of this, it felt like my heart was being carved apart, piece by piece.

If it were the old me, I might have chosen divorce–unable to accept a love already stained by someone else.

However, when I looked at my son, still in elementary school, I fell silent. And let that layer of dust settle deeper and deeper into my heart.

I got into the car and headed home.

Not the one that was burned down–the other apartment.

When Leo and I got married, his family bought one place, and mine bought another. The one that burned was his.

However, when I slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open, I did not see Leo or Dominic.

Instead, I saw Maya–wearing my pajamas, acting like she owned the place.

"Oh, I thought Leo was back," she pouted, muttering to herself before slipping on my slippers and strolling back into the living room.

That's when I noticed it.

The home I carefully built piece by piece–every detail chosen with care–was now a mess.

Trash was everywhere.

The white carpet I used to keep spotless was stained with greasy red oil from takeout.

I did not ask her why she was here.

The answer was obvious.

Who else but that father-and-son pair who treated Maya like she hung the moon would do something like this?

Just because I did not ask did not mean she was not eager to show off.

Maya lounged on my sofa, munching on chips, crumbs falling into the cushions without a care in the world.

I frowned slightly.

She laughed like it was the funniest thing.

"Does it bother you? Your husband and son love how easygoing I am

"Do you know what they say about you, Shirley Kael? You're barely in your thirties, but you act like someone resurrected from some ancient dynasty.

"With a personality like yours, how could anyone like you?

"And now, it's even worse, isn't it? All that skin of yours–burned, right?"

As she spoke, she reached out and tried to lift my clothes.

I dodged, but not fast enough. She caught a glimpse.

The scar–twisted, ugly–made the pampered young lady stumble back in shock. She lost her footing and fell to the floor.

"Aunt Maya! Dad and I brought Cupcake home!"

Dominic burst in just then, holding a kitten. Seeing her on the ground, he immediately put the cat down and ran over, planting himself in front of her like some kind of little hero.

"You bad woman! You're bullying Aunt Maya again!"

He was covered in cat fur.

The moment he got close, my chest tightened. I could barely breathe. I quickly pulled out a tablet of loratadine from my bag.

Just as I was about to take one, Dominic snatched it out of my hand.

"Apologize to Aunt Maya right now, or I won't give it back!"

I looked at him coldly–this child I carried for seven months before giving birth.

He was premature, just a tiny, fragile bundle at birth. Even as he grew, his health stayed weak, always falling sick.

I had no idea how many times I'd rushed him to the hospital in my arms.

Later, under the doctor's guidance, I strictly controlled his diet and even made him exercise outdoors.

After Maya came back, I don't know what she told him.

He was still in primary school, yet he kept saying I took away his freedom.

At first, I thought it was just childish talk. I even found it a little amusing.

However, after the fire, I realized he truly resented me.

A child like this, I truly regret giving birth to him.

I did not do what he expected–lower myself and apologize to his precious Aunt Maya.

Instead, I took out a new strip of medicine from my bag, shot him a mocking glance, and swallowed a pill.

Dominic froze for a moment–then lunged at me, trying to hit me.

In the past, I might have stood there and let him, just because he was weak, letting him vent his anger.

However, now-

With a simple push, he fell straight to the ground.

"That's all the strength you've got? And you think you can play the hero?"