My son had a severe allergy to tobacco smoke. But when my wife took our six-year-old to her childhood friend’s birthday party, she let the man deliberately blow smoke in our son’s face. Panicked, our son ran downstairs, but it was too late. The allergic reaction closed his airway, and he suffocated. By the time the hospital’s call reached me and I rushed to his side, he was already fading, his face and mouth covered in a crimson rash. Even as he was dying, he gripped my hand tightly and whispered, “Daddy, don’t blame Mommy. It’s my fault. If only I wasn’t allergic.” I nearly shattered. I called my wife dozens of times, my hands shaking. When she finally answered, it was with a roar of fury. “That son of yours is just as useless as you are! Preston was just joking with him, and he threw a tantrum and ran off. Just wait until I get my hands on him!” Rage trembled through my entire body, but my voice was ice. “You don’t have to come home. There’s no home left. Let’s get a divorce.” 01 I handled my son's final affairs alone, watching him turn to ash. I carried his urn home, my hands shaking, my heart a raw, gaping wound. Even now, I can’t believe any of this is real. For two days, I didn’t eat or drink. I tried to force myself to sleep, desperate to wake up and find it was all just a nightmare. But it was a dream I couldn’t escape. And in those two days, my son’s mother never came home. She never even called. It was time to end it. I drew up the divorce papers myself, waiting only for Serena to return. Half a day later, she finally walked in, her face a thundercloud, reeking of stale tobacco. She launched into a tirade the moment she saw me. “That son of yours is as useless as you! Preston was just messing with him, and he had to throw a fit and run home. Was he in that much of a hurry? Running off like his life depended on it!” “He even pushed Preston! Preston scraped his arm because of him.” Her words were like knives twisting in my gut. Yes, Preston suffered such a terrible scrape, while my son only lost his life. If my son is truly reborn, I pray he is never born to a woman like this again. She doesn't deserve to be a mother. Serena plopped down on the sofa next to me, the stench of smoke clinging to her like a shroud. I immediately clutched the urn and moved away. My son had been extremely allergic to tobacco since he was a baby. To protect him, I made sure our home was a sanctuary, completely free of the scent. I myself had grown to despise it. But my action only drew Serena’s scorn. “Oh, please. Stop the act. Your son is just like you, always putting on a show. You’re the one who coddled him into having all these ridiculous problems.” “And how dare he push Preston? I’m going to teach him a lesson he won’t forget!” She started to get up, heading for our son’s room. But as she rose, I held out the divorce papers I’d prepared. “You don’t need to use your lover to lord it over my son. Just sign it. Then you and your precious Preston can run off into the sunset together.” My words ignited her fury. She snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds. “Are you insane, Wyatt? Your son misbehaved, and I’m going to discipline him! What’s wrong with that? Is this how you raise him? No wonder he dared to lay a hand on Preston!” “And don’t you dare threaten me with divorce. You’re not worthy.” She shot me a look of pure contempt. “I’m telling you, if anything happens to Preston, I will make you both pay!” Her words stole the air from my lungs. Could a mother really say something like that? A bitter, broken laugh escaped me. “Oh, if something happens to Preston, you’ll make us pay? What if something happens to our son? Have you forgotten he has a severe tobacco allergy? Do you have any idea that even a whiff of smoke makes him cough for ages, makes his skin break out in hives? Do you know why he pushed Preston away? Do you even know what our son…” The words caught in my throat, choked by a sob. But Serena’s face remained a mask of disdain. “Please. What could possibly happen to your son? That ridiculous tobacco allergy is just something you made up to drive a wedge between us.” “Do you know he actively avoids me now? And it’s all your fault!” With that, she stormed off toward our son’s room to find him. This time, I didn’t stop her. I said nothing. I just sat on the sofa, a hollow smile on my face. Our son avoided her? Did she really not know why? She was gone twenty-eight days a month. And when she did come home, she was always steeped in the smell of cigarettes. It wasn't that he hadn't tried to be close to her. But every time he did, the allergic reaction would torment him for days. Why had she never seen him have a reaction? Because when he was suffering, she was never home. She was in bed with her Preston. Soon, Serena returned, having found the room empty. She sneered at me. “Well played, Wyatt. You’ve even learned how to hide him from me now.” She threw a credit card on the table. “Here’s a hundred thousand. Give him to me, now. I have to teach him a lesson today. He needs to learn to respect Preston.” “You love money more than anything, don’t you? Isn’t that why you married me in the first place? So take the money and hand him over!” I looked at her, at the madness in her eyes, and let out another dry, humorless laugh. “You’re pathetic. Keep your money for you and Preston. It’s filthy.” With that, I clutched my son’s urn and walked out, without a moment’s hesitation. 02 My father and Serena’s father were old classmates. I met Serena at one of their gatherings and fell for her instantly. But I knew my place. I was from a working-class family, while hers was in another world entirely. I never dared to dream. Until one day, when our fathers were on a trip together, her father fell into the water. My father dove in without a second thought and saved him, but he never made it back to shore himself. Serena’s father knew of my feelings for her. Out of gratitude for my father’s sacrifice, he insisted that Serena marry me. But in Serena’s eyes, my father’s death, my love for her—it was all a conspiracy. “You two did everything you could to get tangled up with my family. It was always about the money, wasn’t it?” “Fine. I’ll give you money. I’ll even stay married to you. But I’m warning you: don’t you dare try to control me.” From the very beginning, our marriage was a sham. She was rarely home. But I refused to give up. I believed that with time, with my devotion, I could make her see my heart, change her opinion of me. The birth of our son, Noah, only strengthened my resolve. I was sure she would come around. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. And if I hadn’t been so naive, my son would still be alive. I took Noah’s ashes back to my father’s old house. I’d chosen a burial plot and was preparing to take him there. The moment I stepped outside, Serena was there, blocking my path with several men. Her face was cold as she waved them inside to search the house. They found nothing. “What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Where did you hide that little thief? Tell him to get his ass out here. I’m going to break his legs today!” My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? Serena, Noah is your son too. Do you enjoy slandering him like this?” A fresh wave of anger crashed over me. I had thought, for a fleeting moment, that she’d found out about Noah and had come to say her final goodbyes. But no. She was here to falsely accuse my dead son. Suddenly, Serena lunged at me, her movements wild, and slapped me hard across the face. “You’re still defending him? Do you have any idea what he did? Yesterday, your son stole Preston’s asthma inhaler! Preston almost died! He’s in the hospital right now!” “He’s so young and already so spiteful. A little thief! I’m so embarrassed in front of Preston!” “He will pay for this today!” Her words left me reeling in disbelief. “What did you say?” I laughed, a cold, furious sound. “Serena, have you lost your mind? Did that man put some kind of spell on you?” You’ve already killed Noah. Why do you still have to slander him like this? But Serena just slapped me again, the sting of it white-hot on my cheek. “You dare say another word against Preston and see what happens!” she spat, her eyes burning with contempt. “You raised him to be like this, and you have the nerve to blame someone else?” Now I was the one slandering Preston? The rage was a fire, threatening to consume me. I wanted to kill this insane woman standing before me, but I forced myself to remain calm. Her life didn’t matter. What mattered was clearing my son’s name. I took a deep breath, my voice trembling. “Fine. You say my son stole Preston’s medicine. I have one question for you. Do you have any proof?” “You’re still trying to defend him?” she roared. “Fine! I’ll show you just how wrong you are!” She pulled out her phone and played a video. It looked like Preston’s apartment. A figure, similar in build and appearance to Noah, tiptoed into a room. After looking around, he took something from a cabinet. The video was blurry. You couldn’t make out a face, and you certainly couldn’t see what was taken. But Serena’s face was alight with triumph. “See?” she said scornfully. “That’s your son. He stole Preston’s asthma medication. Now what do you have to say?” “This happened yesterday. Your son is a thief. A spiteful little thief! I’m ashamed to have a son like him. You two are both the same, despicable and shameless…”
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