The apartment was on fire.

A chunk of the ceiling crashed down. I shielded my son as the debris gashed my head.

My husband—the firefighter—kicked in the door. He had one oxygen mask.

My son cried out, “Dad, save Auntie Viveca first! She's sick!”

So my husband gave the mask to his childhood sweetheart.

I fumbled for my inhaler. It was empty. “I’m pregnant! Hate me if you want, Alistair, but you can’t let our baby die!”

“Don't lie.” My husband just scoffed and swept the other woman into his arms.

A girl pulled me from the wreckage. I lost the baby. The first thing I did was file for divorce.

My adopted daughter and I were starting over.

Then my ex-husband and my son showed up at our new apartment.

Kneeling. Begging me to come home.

————————

1

On my son Asher’s birthday, my husband invited his childhood sweetheart, Viveca, over, saying he wanted to take Asher to a basketball game.

“No,” I said, planting myself in the doorway.

We were at a standoff. Moments later, the hallway of our Capitol Hill apartment building exploded in flames.

A piece of plasterboard fell from the ceiling. I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head, and warm blood instantly blurred my vision. But my son, Asher, huddled beneath me, was completely unharmed.

My husband, Alistair, was a firefighter. He charged in, but he secured his only spare breathing mask over Viveca’s face.

“Auntie Viveca has claustrophobia and a panic disorder! Dad, get her out of here! Mom, you can wait for the others to rescue you!”

A bitter, blood-stained smile twisted my lips as I stared at them.

Had they both forgotten I have severe asthma? Without a mask, I would die in here.

Amidst the roaring flames, I watched helplessly as my husband, Alistair, clutched another woman in his arms and sprinted for the exit.

And my son, Asher—the child I’d nearly died to bring into this world—played the little gentleman, carefully supporting Viveca, terrified she might stumble.

Neither of them glanced back at me.

An overwhelming, bone-chilling sorrow consumed me. I was his wife. His family. Yet in that life-or-death moment, they had abandoned me without a second thought.

Just half an hour earlier, Viveca had knocked on our door.

I hadn’t let her in, but Asher, who was playing video games in his room, heard the commotion.

He rushed out, shoved me aside, and then cheerfully took Viveca’s hand, leading her toward the door.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I tried to stop them.

But Asher bit down hard on my arm, his eyes filled with venom.

“Why can’t I go with Auntie Viveca?”

“If it weren’t for you, Auntie Viveca would be my mom! I wish you would just die!”

The bloody imprint of his teeth on my arm was a testament to his hatred.

It was during this confrontation that the fire broke out.

We were trapped, waiting for rescue.

Asher didn’t even glance my way. He stayed by Viveca’s side, comforting her. “Auntie Viveca, don’t be scared. You’re very important to Dad. He’ll definitely come save you first.”

My heart shattered. For seven long years, I thought I could have warmed even a stone.

But not him. For me, he had only hatred.

He hated that I wouldn’t buy him the latest game console, hated that I wouldn’t let him on his phone until his homework was done.

But most of all, he hated that I refused to let Viveca be his mother.

Even so, when that piece of plasterboard came crashing down, I had lunged without hesitation, shielding him with my own body.

The board had cut through my scalp, and blood was pouring out. Yet he pushed me away, grabbed Viveca’s hand, and anxiously asked if she was frightened.

Alistair burst in wearing a respirator. He held the only spare mask and went straight to Viveca.

“Dad, save Auntie Viveca first! She’s not well!”

“Mom looks okay. She can wait for the other firefighters.”

Tears streamed down my soot-stained face. A bleak smile touched my lips as I held up the small canister. “My asthma inhaler is almost empty. I won’t last long in this smoke.”

Seven years ago today, I was on the brink of death from a postpartum hemorrhage.

Before I lost consciousness, I grabbed Alistair’s hand and begged him to save the baby, no matter what.

If he had to choose, he had to choose the child.

I fought with all my might to give birth to him. And today, that same child was clutching Alistair’s hand, begging him to save someone else.

Alistair held Viveca and glanced at me coldly. “Marceline, you owe Viveca this. Just wait a little longer. My colleagues will be here soon.”

My survival instinct took over. I grabbed his sleeve, my voice a desperate scream, “Alistair, I’m pregnant! You can hate me, but you can’t kill our baby!”

Alistair’s whole body stiffened. He’d been home so rarely, I hadn’t found the right time to tell him.

Seeing his father hesitate, Asher angrily pried my fingers away.

“Mom, how can you be so selfish! How could you lie to Dad about something like this?”

Viveca, nestled in Alistair’s arms, was sobbing pitifully.

Alistair’s expression instantly turned to ice. Then, he shoved me away violently and rushed out with Viveca in his arms.

The thick smoke completely engulfed me. My breathing became a searing pain.

The inhaler in my hand was empty.

I took one last, scorching breath and closed my eyes in despair.

A profound bitterness washed over me.

I should never have gotten into this relationship. It was a mistake from the very beginning.

I knew Alistair had never loved me.

During our four years at the University of Washington, everyone knew I had a crush on him.

Unfortunately, he only had eyes for his goddess, Viveca. He never even knew I existed.

Before graduation, Viveca accepted her family’s arrangements and moved abroad.

The day she left, Alistair got blind drunk and came to find me.

He held me, his eyes hazy, and called out Viveca’s name, over and over again.

He thought I was her. Yet, I was so desperate for him that I sank into the chaotic passion of that night. He took me roughly, the mix of sweat and alcohol feeling utterly surreal.

It was a mistake. When I woke up the next day, he threw my clothes on the floor and told me to get out, his face grim.

I thought it was just a brief, foolish encounter, but I ended up pregnant.

For the sake of the child, Alistair hastily registered our marriage at City Hall, and I had our son. He named him Asher.

He didn't love me at all. That’s why he turned a blind eye to Viveca’s constant provocations after she returned, even letting her come and go from our home as she pleased and take Asher with her.

Even when I desperately sought an explanation from Alistair, Asher would side with him.

He would say, “Mom, you’re not as pretty or as fun as Auntie Viveca. Why don’t you just get lost?”

“That way, Dad can be with her, and Auntie Viveca can be my mom.”

My eyelids grew heavier, and my consciousness began to drift away.

I collapsed to the floor, without the strength to even stand.

Just then, a small, thin figure emerged from the suffocating smoke.

“Ma’am, do you need help?” a timid voice asked.

I forced my eyes open and saw a little girl about my son’s age.

She was covered in soot and grime, but her eyes shone astonishingly bright in the thick smoke.

Her tiny body held a surprising strength as she helped me to my feet. Then, step by agonizing step, we struggled our way out.

Every step toward the exit felt like walking on knives, and I wanted to give up several times.

But that little girl held onto me tightly, refusing to let go.

The moment we escaped the fire, she collapsed to her knees in exhaustion. Despite this, the first thing she did was cry out hoarsely for help for me.

I held her in my arms and wept uncontrollably.

On the way to Harborview Medical Center, I learned her name was Ellie and that her grandfather had died in the fire.

In the ambulance, she was overwhelmed by immense grief, but she just covered her face with her small hands.

She tried to stifle her sobs, as if afraid of disturbing the people around her.

An indescribable ache bloomed in my chest for her. I took her hand and asked if she would let me adopt her.

Her eyes lit up for a second, but she still shook her head. She said she didn’t want to be a burden to me.

I smiled bitterly and told her that I was already a complete mess myself. So, the last thing I was afraid of was another burden.

I promised her that as soon as I was discharged from the hospital, we would go and sort out the adoption papers.

I stayed in the hospital for three days. Due to severe smoke inhalation, I lost my baby.

During this time, Alistair and Asher never visited. They didn’t even call.

They were in the room next door, busy taking care of Viveca.

My only comfort was the little girl who had saved me, Ellie.

She told me her father had named her Ellie Peterson. If I were to adopt her, I could change her name.

I stroked her head and shook mine. “I’d love to adopt you, but you don’t need to change your name. You can be whoever you want to be, without having to compromise for anyone, okay?”

Ellie’s eyes brightened with joy. She nuzzled my arm affectionately and thanked me in a sweet voice.

It had been a long time since I had heard those two words.

Alistair and Asher took everything I did for granted; they never thanked me.

Moved, I hugged her tight and felt a real smile spread across my face for the first time in ages.

It was then that I ran into Alistair and Asher in the hallway.

I was still recovering from the miscarriage, so Ellie was carefully helping me back to my room.

We rounded a corner and came face to face with Alistair and Asher, who were supporting Viveca.

They were talking and laughing. The three of them looked like a perfect little family.

I thought my heart would break, but surprisingly, I only felt a faint ripple of emotion.

So, I quietly walked past them.

However, Alistair couldn’t help but call out to me.

I turned around and saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Marceline, are you hurt?” he asked.

I wanted to laugh.

Of course not. I just had an asthma attack and nearly suffocated in the smoke.

My head was stitched and wrapped in gauze, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Moreover, I had miscarried. Perhaps that child was lucky, spared from a life with such a cold-blooded father and brother.

Seeing my silence, he stared at my flat stomach.

Then, he let out a mocking sneer. “Marceline, I actually thought you were pregnant. It seems Viveca was right. You were just being selfish, trying to trick me into saving you first.”

Viveca, by his side, stared at me with venom in her eyes.

At this point, I didn't see the point in explaining myself.

So, I just gave a slight nod.

“Think whatever you want,” I said softly. “You must be disappointed I’m still alive, right?”

“But it’s okay…”

I looked up and met his calm gaze.

“Alistair, let’s get a divorce.”

“I’ll set you free, so you can go pursue your true love.”

I turned and shifted my gaze to Asher.

“And I won’t be your mother anymore, just as you wished.”

Seeing their shocked expressions, a real smile touched my lips. How perfect. We could all finally be free.

I turned to leave, but Alistair grabbed my wrist.

His voice trembled slightly. “Marceline, what do you mean by this? You’re going to divorce me just because I saved Viveca first?”

“You weren’t even hurt, and you lied about being pregnant. I haven’t even held you accountable for that, and now you want a divorce? Is that really necessary?”

I couldn’t be bothered to argue and just tried to pull my arm away.

However, he tightened his grip, and my wrist began to ache, turning red.

Ellie, who had been standing beside me, instantly teared up.

She angrily pried Alistair’s hand off me and shielded me behind her. “Don’t you touch my mom! She just had surgery and she’s very weak. You’re hurting her!” she shouted.

I had to suppress a laugh. She glared at the man before her like a little tigress protecting her cub, determined to keep me safe.

Unfortunately, Ellie was too small and thin. When Asher rushed over to hit her, he easily overpowered her.

Then, Asher started throwing punches at her.

“You’re a liar! She’s my mom, not yours!”

Ellie couldn’t fight back. She covered her head, dodging the blows. But she still refused to back down.

“She’s not anymore. She said you don’t want her.”

“Besides, you abandoned her in the fire. You wanted her to die!”

“She told me I saved her, and from now on, she’s my mom.”

Asher froze, and tears started to well up in his eyes.

He looked down and saw the silver necklace I had personally hammered for her around Ellie’s neck. In that moment, his anger returned.

He snatched the necklace, breaking the chain, and clutched it tightly in his hand.

His face was flushed with fury.

“This is my mom’s! Who do you think you are, wearing it?!”

Asher looked up at me with pleading eyes.

“Mom, didn’t you say this was a gift for me? Why is she wearing it?!”

I smiled and reached out to help him up.

However, I didn’t embrace him. Instead, I gently pushed him aside.

Then, I helped Ellie up and brushed the dust off her clothes.

I pulled her into my arms and took the necklace from Asher’s hand.

“You had one just like this. You were the one who said it was ugly and threw it in the trash,” I reminded him calmly.

For his birthday last year, I had spent half a month making two identical necklaces. My hands were covered in blisters from all the hammering.

I even gave him the more delicate one and wore the other myself.

Despite that, he threw it away without a second glance.

He held up the brand-new PS5 Viveca had given him and said dismissively, “Mom, don’t give me useless junk like this anymore.”

I stared sadly at the discarded necklace. All I could do was smile awkwardly and nod in agreement.

And now, he had the audacity to try and snatch it from Ellie?

Seeing that I wouldn’t help him, he started to wail.

“Mom, I want this one. Can’t you give it to me—”

“If you want one so badly, ask your father to buy you one,” I interrupted calmly.

Then, I took Ellie’s hand and prepared to leave.

As I turned, my eyes met Alistair’s sharp gaze.

“Marceline, that girl said you had surgery.”

“What kind of surgery?”