They Lost Me in the Fire

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.