At 11:00 AM, as my husband slowly suffocated in the bathtub, I was chatting with the other moms by the apartment complex's playground slide. The slide was directly below our bathroom window, barely twenty feet away in a straight line. Normally, I would have gone home at 11:00 AM as usual, which would have given me enough time to save his life. But as fate would have it, Lily's mom had just bought a new dress and enthusiastically invited us over to her place to admire it. When my daughter and I finally returned home at 11:10 AM, my husband was already dead. At the funeral, I was inconsolable, fainting several times from grief. Everyone sighed in sympathy. My mother-in-law, Martha, a tough elementary school principal who had traveled all the way from a remote town in the Midwest, walked right up to me in front of everyone. With a steely expression, she enunciated every single word: "You are the murderer who killed my son!" 01 It was an ordinary Saturday in late summer. Because he had pulled an all-nighter for work the day before, Arthur woke up a bit late, only sitting down at the dining table for breakfast around 10:00 AM. At 10:05 AM, our daughter, Mia, rushed me to go downstairs for the eighth time. As I was crouching by the door tying Mia's shoelaces, she shook her head and made a funny face at her dad. "Daddy is a lazybones, the sun is already high in the sky and you just woke up. Shame on you, Daddy." Arthur let out a muffled chuckle and made a funny face right back at her. "Mia is a little troublemaker, always needing Mommy to go downstairs and play with her. Shame on you too, Mia." I was clumsily grabbing the water bottle and tissues. As I opened the door, I remembered something and turned around to remind him: "Honey, Mia is definitely going to work up a sweat today. Remember to start drawing the bathwater early so she can wash up as soon as she gets back." Our bathtub filled slowly; it always took over 20 minutes to fill completely. Arthur held a bagel in one hand and gave a two-finger salute from his temple with the other. "Don't worry, wifey, mission guaranteed to be accomplished!" I rolled my eyes at him. "Let's go!" The slide was right below our apartment, the liveliest spot in the whole complex. Kids were running around everywhere, and parents were gathered in groups chatting. After sitting down with a few moms I knew well, I patted my pockets and realized in my rush, I had forgotten my phone. I turned to ask Lily's mom next to me. "What time is it now? I left my phone at home." Lily's mom pulled out her newest foldable smartphone like she was showing it off and said loudly: "10:40." Just as she finished speaking, our second-floor bathroom window opened. Arthur poked his head out, smiling and shouting down to me: "Honey, I'm starting the water! Come up when you're done playing!" I turned to look at Mia, who was sweating profusely from playing, and gave him an "OK" sign. "Got it!" Arthur politely waved to the other moms before closing the window. The moms started gushing. "Your husband is just perfect. He's handsome and has a great personality. I heard he made partner this year? He must be making a couple hundred thousand a year now, right?" "A couple hundred thousand? Try more than that! A lawyer at Mr. Sterling's level easily makes over a million a year! Mia's mom, you can just sit back and relax as a stay-at-home mom!" "He's so capable, yet he comes home on time every day, helps with chores and cooking on the weekends, is always smiling, and doesn't have any bad habits. Compared to my husband... tsk tsk, it's like night and day." "I'm not jealous of anything else, I'm just jealous of how much you two love each other. Take that car accident, for example. He really risked his own life for you!" The moms all nodded in agreement, sighing with envy. Half a year ago, while Arthur and I were driving to buy some plants, our car was rear-ended by a large truck and flipped over. The front of the car burst into flames almost instantly. His side, the driver's side, was facing up, and he was quickly pulled out by bystanders. But I was pinned underneath, unable to move. Seeing the fire growing larger, everyone started backing away. Only Arthur pulled and tugged like a madman, his hands sliced open and bleeding profusely, screaming hoarsely, "Save my wife, please, someone save her!" Just five seconds after he finally managed to drag me out with his own strength, the car exploded with a massive roar. The accident was recorded and posted online, generating a massive amount of attention for a while. Netizens said I must have saved the galaxy in my past life to find a husband who loved me this much. Thinking of the scene from that day, my eyes reddened slightly. Arthur usually looked like a gentle scholar, but I never expected him to be so brave and fearless in a critical moment. Later, because he injured the tendons and bones in two fingers of his right hand and couldn't do fine motor tasks anymore, my heart ached so much I couldn't stop crying. He patted my head and smiled comfortingly: "It's okay. I make my living with my brain anyway. Losing two more fingers wouldn't stop me from taking care of you!" Right now. Amidst the moms' sighs of admiration, I nodded honestly. "Yeah, he really is a perfect husband." 02 "My husband isn't bad either, you know!" Lily's mom chimed in, raising her voice. "My husband went to Paris this time and brought me back several designer dresses. They're absolutely gorgeous. Come on, let's go to my place and I'll show you!" Lily's mom had a significant age gap with her husband and was constantly trying to show off how much he loved her, proving she married for love and not just for money. I smiled and shook my head. "I'll pass. I have to take Mia up for her bath. You guys go ahead." Lily's mom loved comparing herself to me the most, and immediately expressed her dissatisfaction. "Didn't your husband just say to come up in a little bit? Going to my place won't take that long. You can't even give me this little bit of face!" At 11:00 AM, I came out of Lily's mom's house. At 11:05 AM, I caught Mia, who was running wild by the slide, and pulled her along, telling her it was time to go home. She refused at first. She begged for "five more minutes," "Mommy, just five more minutes, please?" I flatly refused, using the excuse that "the bathwater is getting cold." She aggrievedly said goodbye to her little friends one by one. The parents sitting in a circle nearby watched with amusement, exchanging knowing smiles with me. At 11:08 AM, Mia and I got to the second floor and bumped into our single neighbor across the hall, Sam, who was coming out to throw away his trash. He greeted us, his face slightly flushed. Mia held his hand and sweetly asked when he would help her build her Lego set again. Meanwhile, I took out my keys and unlocked the door. At 11:09 AM, while Mia was saying goodbye to Sam in the hallway, I walked into the bathroom because Arthur didn't answer when I called out "Honey." At 11:10 AM, I let out a piercing scream. Arthur's pale face was submerged under the water, his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. He was already dead. 03 A lot of people came to the funeral. There were Arthur's colleagues and friends, neighbors from our apartment complex, and even representatives from charitable organizations holding funeral wreaths. It was only then that everyone found out Arthur had been donating to rural children through charities for the past few years—$20,000 a year, totaling over $100,000. People sighed and lamented. "What a good man. Heaven is blind; why did this kind of accident have to happen to him! The good die young, while the wicked live for a thousand years!" "Arthur did a lot of pro bono legal aid over the years. He just made partner this year. He even said he was going to work hard for his wife and kid from now on, who would have thought..." "They were so in love. How is Mia's mom going to bear this! She's fainted several times over the past few days. Thank goodness the people from the HOA are keeping an eye on her." "Mia's mom doesn't have an income, and they still have a mortgage. If Arthur had lived, they would have paid it off in a year or two. Things are going to be really tough for her from now on." "This accident was truly a freak occurrence. I heard he slipped, hit his head, and knocked himself out, and the water ran for 20 minutes before slowly covering his nose and mouth. If he had woken up during that time, or if Mia's mom had come home, he could have been saved at any moment. Sigh, you can only say it was fate!" Amidst the hushed whispers, I sat to the side, deathly pale, staring blankly at Arthur's photo. Over the past few days, I had been completely consumed by extreme grief, crying until I was heartbroken, fainting multiple times. Anyone who saw me couldn't help but sigh in sympathy. An HOA worker sat beside me, occasionally offering a few words of comfort. Lily's mom walked over, looking guilty, and said: "Mia's mom, I'm so sorry. If I hadn't made you go to my place and waste time that day, maybe... maybe Arthur wouldn't have died!" By the end of her sentence, she covered her mouth and sobbed. I shook my head mournfully. "No, it has nothing to do with you. It's my fault. I was the one who told him to start the water early. I was the one who forgot my phone, forcing him to open the window to call me, which caused him to slip. I was the one who said I'd be home at 11 but dawdled and was ten minutes late. It's all my fault, it's all my fault, I killed him..." The HOA worker quickly interjected to comfort me. "Mia's mom, you absolutely cannot think like that. It was just a tragic series of coincidences that no one could control. Besides, the police also said it was an accident—a freak accident with an incredibly low probability." That day, when I screamed, Sam was the first to rush in. Realizing what had happened, he immediately blocked Mia outside and helped me call 911. After investigating the scene and conducting interviews, the police roughly deduced the sequence of events leading to the accident: 10:40 AM: Arthur turned on the faucet to fill the bathtub while simultaneously opening the window to talk to me. Because the window was on the same side as the bathtub and opened inward, he had to lean his body diagonally to stick his head out. However, while closing the window, he accidentally lost his balance, fell into the bathtub, and was knocked unconscious. 10:40 AM - 11:00 AM: The water slowly rose until it submerged his head. 11:00 AM - 11:05 AM: After being submerged for 5 minutes, Arthur died of asphyxiation. He never regained consciousness during the entire process, as there were no signs of struggle or water splashed outside the tub. 11:10 AM: I came home and discovered the accident scene. During this time, from when Arthur showed his face at the window to when I returned home, no outsiders entered or exited the hallway, and there were no suspicious traces at the scene. It was ruled an accident. Someone shook their head and sighed. "It really proves the saying, 'When your time is up, there's no escaping it.' ...Wait, who is that at the door? Why is she wearing such thick clothes on such a hot day?" "Yeah, isn't she hot?" I kept my head down like a walking corpse, completely numb to everything around me. "She's walking towards Mia's mom." "She's not here to ask the grieving family for money, is she? That would be way out of line. This is a funeral, not a wedding." A pair of worn, gray women's sneakers came into my field of vision. The shoes were an old style, with small, matching-color patches, and covered in a fine layer of dust, as if narrating how far they had traveled. "Mia's mom, do you recognize me?" A slightly weathered voice sounded. The voice was very close, right by my ear. I slowly raised my head. Before me was the face of an elderly woman. Her skin was dry and wrinkled, her temples graying, but her gaze was piercing beneath her drooping eyelids. On this hot summer day, she wore an inappropriately thick, light-wool coat, a worn black tote bag over one arm, and an old, chipped thermos in her other hand. "I am Martha, the mother-in-law you've never met." I stared at her blankly, my exhausted neural pathways beginning to stretch, connect, bridge... My eyes suddenly flew wide open: "Mom?" Martha slowly nodded. "It's good that you recognize me." The crowd gathered around. "So it's Arthur's mother. Sigh, the white-haired burying the black-haired. My deepest condolences." "It's good that you're here. With family to support each other, Mia's mom and her daughter won't be so miserable." Someone kindly offered to help Martha with her bag and thermos. She slowly shook her head in refusal, turned to look at Arthur's memorial photo, and then stared straight at me. "From the day I learned of my son's death, I left the Midwest and traveled here non-stop, just to tell the police one sentence." She stared at me, her expression resolute, enunciating every word. "You are the murderer who killed my son." 04 After Martha dropped that bombshell, she turned and left, and no one could stop her. She appeared suddenly. And disappeared just as abruptly. As if she had come solely to deliver that one sentence. After looking at each other in bewilderment, everyone came over to comfort me. "Mia's mom, the old lady might just be confused from grief. Don't take it to heart. At a time like this, it's easy for grief to mess with your head." "Yeah, an old lady from a rural area who doesn't know the situation probably heard some baseless rumors and believed them. Just sit down and have a good talk with her later." "We've never seen Arthur's mom before. Showing up right when he dies, could she be here to fight for custody or the inheritance?" "Never even heard of her, let alone seen her! Mia's mom, that old lady just said she's never met you. Are you sure that's really Arthur's mom?" I didn't speak; I felt so weak I could barely hold myself up. An HOA worker handed me a cup of hot tea. "Alright, alright, stop asking questions. Right now, the most important thing is to finish the funeral properly and let Mia's mom get some rest. Everything else will sort itself out." I lowered my head and took a few sips of the hot tea, my mind slowly clearing a bit. Yes. Martha was indeed Arthur's biological mother. Eight years ago, when Arthur and I got married, I saw this mother-in-law for the first time on a video call. She divorced Arthur's father when Arthur was fifteen, abandoned everything, and went to teach in a remote town in the Midwest. Since then, mother and son were separated and lost contact for years. After Arthur's father died, Arthur, who now had some financial stability, finally managed to track her down after several years and wanted to bring her to the city to live out her retirement. She refused, saying that when she decided to go to the mountains, she swore an oath never to leave that land. Over the past few years, Arthur traveled to the Midwest alone twice to visit her, while I only briefly video-chatted with her once a year on Mia's birthday. At this very moment, I was plunged into deep confusion and bewilderment. I couldn't understand why this woman, who swore never to leave the Midwest, had suddenly traveled all this way? Why did she suddenly say such a thing to me? Through my grief, I pondered endlessly... After the funeral, Martha didn't leave the city. She stayed. Naturally, she didn't stay in my apartment, but rather in a cheap motel near the train station. Late at night, the bright moon hung high in the sky, looking down on the joys and sorrows of the world below. I sat alone, wiping away tears as I looked at Arthur's photo, and made a decision in my heart. No matter why she came. Whether for the child. Or the money. Or if there was some misunderstanding. She was, after all, my husband's mother, my child's grandmother. I couldn't completely ignore her. 05 The next day, after packing some daily necessities, bedding, and a comforter, I knocked on the door of my neighbor across the hall, Sam. When he saw me, his gaze flickered. He hurriedly smoothed his hair and straightened his clothes. I tactfully expressed that I needed his help and asked if he was free and if it was convenient for him to give me a ride. "Of course." "I'm free anytime," he said, looking at me. Sam drove Mia and me to the cheap motel near the train station. The motel was dilapidated and dimly lit, with a sign out front reading: [Rooms - $30/night] "Mommy, does Grandma live here? It's so rundown. Let's have Grandma live at our house, okay?" Mia's childish voice piped up. I sighed. "Grandma is a bit stubborn. She probably won't agree." Sam walked over, carrying several bags. "Mia's mom, there's a lot of stuff here. Let me help you bring it up." I hesitated. "Maybe not. It's too much trouble for you. You can just wait for us here." A hint of worry crossed Sam's face, and he said gently: "The old lady said those things to you the other day. If you two are alone and get into an argument, I can keep an eye on things. Mostly, I just don't want Mia to get scared." I smiled bitterly and nodded. "Thanks for your help, then." When I saw Martha again. She was sitting in the spartan room, fiddling with her phone. Seeing me standing in the doorway, she froze for a moment, then stood up, her gaze calm. I took a deep breath and slowly began. "Mom, I know you probably don't want to come stay at the house, so I brought you some things. No matter what misunderstanding you have against me, I hope you'll accept this small gesture for Arthur's and Mia's sake." I turned and gave Sam a look. He carried the things inside, set them down, and silently retreated back into the hallway. Martha stood there without saying a word. Neither accepting nor refusing, she just watched with an unreadable expression. Mia timidly stepped forward and spoke softly. "Grandma, why won't you come live with us? Mommy says Daddy went on a really long business trip and won't be back for a long time. Can you stay at our house and wait for Daddy with us?" Martha's eyes instantly softened. Her rough, calloused palm gently stroked Mia's head, and the wrinkled edges of her eyes grew red. "Be a good girl, Mia. Grandma has something very important to do. For now, I can't go home with you." "Grandma, I miss Daddy. Do you miss Daddy too?" "Yes, Grandma... misses him very much too." She looked calm and composed on the surface, but her trembling voice betrayed the emotions she was trying so hard to hide. I turned my head and whispered something to Sam. He immediately walked in and coaxed Mia to go downstairs with him first. Only Martha and I were left in the room. This cheap motel, wedged between towering skyscrapers, only had a sliver of daylight filtering through its broken window. The chaotic noise outside contrasted sharply with the silence in this cramped corner. "I've already filed a police report." Martha watched me calmly and suddenly spoke. I was stunned for a moment, then let out a soft sigh by the dim doorway. "Regarding my status as a suspect, the police have already finished their investigation. I had no time to commit the crime, no method, and absolutely no motive. Arthur's death brings me nothing but harm; why would I hurt him? Mom, I truly don't understand why you're so stubbornly convinced that I wanted my husband dead..." "So this is the reason you came today?" Martha's voice was steady. "You're curious how I, thousands of miles away, knew that you were the real murderer who killed Arthur, so you came to test the waters?" A sense of tragic powerlessness rose in my heart. I wanted to say something, but felt that whatever I said would be meaningless. "Since you're so stubbornly convinced I'm the killer, let's wait for the police to reach their conclusion." I said desolately, turning to leave. As I took a few steps down the hallway, Martha's heavy voice sounded behind me. "Actually, I wasn't entirely certain at first." "But you coming here today, bringing that young man with you. You're trying to mislead me into thinking you two are having an affair, aren't you? You want me to push the police to investigate in that direction so they end up hitting a dead end..." "Now, I am certain you are the murderer." As the last word fell, the hallway plunged into sudden silence. I slowly turned around... In the cramped, dark hallway. I met her silent gaze. 06 I was called down to the police station for questioning. This was my first time inside a precinct. I was anxious and felt a bit helpless. When I took the water the officer handed me, my hand went limp, spilling half the cup onto his sleeve. "There's no need to be so nervous. The victim's mother filed a report, so we're just conducting an investigation following standard procedure." Two officers sat across from me, trying to calm me down. "We already have a good grasp of your basic movements that day. Now, we just have a few questions we need to confirm with you. Please answer truthfully." I nodded silently. "First question: whose idea was it to start filling the bathtub early?" "Mine." "Why?" After pausing for a few seconds, I spoke slowly. "Mia is a very active child, and she always works up a sweat when she plays. That bathtub fills slowly, taking over twenty minutes to even get half full. I was worried she might catch a cold, so I told Arthur to start the water early so she could take a bath right when we got home." "Mhm. Second question: why didn't you take your phone that day?" I murmured: "I don't know what came over me that day. I usually never forget my phone, but that day I just forgot it on the shoe cabinet. I just forgot." The two officers exchanged a glance and continued: "Over the summer, you almost always took your child downstairs around 10:00 AM, played at the slide for an hour, and went home at 11:00 AM. But that day, why were you ten minutes late?" My eyes grew red, my voice thick with emotion. "I went to a neighbor's house. Honestly, I didn't want to go, but I'm too polite. When someone insists, I feel bad saying no..." "Your husband died in his own bathroom. Why was your neighbor across the hall, Sam, also present at the primary crime scene?" "Sam?" I stared blankly, trying to recall for a long moment. "When I opened the door, Mia was still in the hallway talking to Sam. When I called for my husband and got no response, I went into the bathroom... The bathroom is directly across from the front door. I collapsed at the doorway and screamed. Sam immediately rushed in—" The older officer suddenly let out a cold laugh, sharply interrupting me: "Mrs. Sterling, from the last time Arthur was seen alive to the discovery of the scene of death, you have a perfect alibi for every single step. Don't you think that's a bit too coincidental?" I looked at him in shock, then lowered my head, burying my face tightly in my hands, sobs escaping through my fingers. "Yes, it's all my fault! For those 20-plus minutes, my husband was slowly dying in lonely desperation, while I, taking my sweet time, wasted time at Lily's mom's house, wasted time coaxing Mia to go home, wasted time talking to neighbors in the hallway." "I killed him!" "I am the murderer who killed my husband!" I shouted these sentences, my voice trembling. Grief, pain, panic, self-blame—a cocktail of intense emotions surged wildly through my already exhausted body like a tidal wave. I finally couldn't hold on any longer. And fainted. ... When I woke up, I found myself lying in a small infirmary. The wind had picked up outside at some point. The wind blew the window open, carrying faint, low whispers from the hallway into the room. "Do you think she's hiding something?" "Hard to say. Her alibi is full of coincidences, but every step is also a completely logical event in her daily life. We asked around during the previous investigation. Lily's mom confirmed that inviting her over was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and running into the neighbor was just a chance encounter while he was taking out the trash. Moreover..." "Moreover what?" "When others are suspected, they try their hardest to clear their names. But she's doing the exact opposite, pulling all the blame onto herself. Even things that could be explained clearly, she leaves ambiguous. This kind of behavior means she's either truly lost her mind from the trauma, or she's a criminal mastermind with an exceptional psychological profile." "An ordinary housewife, who was so nervous she couldn't even hold a cup of water steady when she walked in, who loses control of her emotions with just a little push... could she be?" "I don't know. But even if she is, there's a key element we can't explain." "What key element?" "The method." "Yeah. Even if she's a one-in-a-million criminal mastermind who meticulously planned every detail, how could she guarantee Arthur would definitely slip when opening the window? And even if he slipped, how could she guarantee he'd conveniently be knocked unconscious—" "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. My daughter is home alone. May I leave now?" The two officers whipped their heads around, looking in surprise at me standing behind them. I kept my eyes lowered, my face pale, so weak I could barely stand. The older officer coughed. "If you're feeling okay, the questioning is concluded for today." "Thank you." I murmured my thanks and left. After taking two steps, I turned back and looked at the two men, speaking slowly. "Officers, I don't know what my mother-in-law did to make you reopen the investigation. But for the sake of my child and I being able to live in peace, I think I should make things clear." "I don't understand the 'alibis' or 'methods' you were just talking about. But I know that to do something, you need a motive. I had absolutely no reason to murder my husband. I'm sure you've investigated that thoroughly." "Thank you for your hard work regarding my husband's case." I bowed to them, turned, and left. As I slowly walked out of the precinct courtyard, the two men stood smoking in the hallway. "What did you just say? You said we intentionally let her overhear our conversation, which was psychological pressure. That the perpetrator, seeing the police confused by their own actions, would subconsciously show their true reaction when alone. Then we would show the footage of her to a micro-expression expert... But just now, she, well, proactively walked over. So what does that mean?" The older officer silently took a drag of his cigarette and spat. "It means we wasted our time!" 07 I went to the police station in the morning, and by the time I got home, it was already dark. Dragging my exhausted, weak body, I knocked on Sam's door. He's a freelance illustrator who usually stays at home. I had left Mia with him today. When Mia came home carrying an armful of toys, he suddenly whispered, "Mia's grandmother started a livestream." I narrowed my eyes. "What?" "The day before yesterday, when I was waiting downstairs at the motel with Mia for you, I heard a hotel worker complaining that a rural old lady was driving her crazy asking how to start a livestream. I kept an eye out and searched online these past two days. Sure enough, I found it. Look, this is the stream. Even though there aren't many viewers, she's been streaming all day." After turning on the TV for Mia and seeing she was completely engrossed in cartoons, I silently went into my room. Leaning against the headboard, I closed my eyes and meditated for a moment. Then I took out my phone and found the livestream titled "The Truth Will Never Be Buried." Martha sat formally in front of the camera. She was still wearing that somewhat dated light-wool coat, with the motel's peeling white walls behind her. There were a few sparse comments in the chat. [Is she using the 'old person' filter? Looks pretty good.] [This is real! This old lady's son died, she suspects her daughter-in-law killed him, and she's looking for help online!] [I get it. Another case of a kid dying, and they immediately go online to stir up public opinion for sympathy without knowing the facts. At the end of the day, if it's for clout, it's just for money!] Martha's eyes, etched with the marks of time, shifted slightly, and she suddenly spoke. "I don't want money. I'm an elementary school teacher, making $2,280 a month." [Yeah, yeah, you don't want money. If you don't want money, go to the police. What truth are you looking for online?] [Let me break it down: I live in the complex where it happened. This was actually just a tragic accident. The son and daughter-in-law had a great relationship. They're the same couple who got into that car crash and explosion near the Outer Ring Bridge six months ago.] [Ah, I know that one! That news was huge at the time. Everyone was moved by their 'till death do us part' love story. I even cried!] [I remember too! The husband didn't even care about his own life to save his wife. And the wife turns around and kills the husband? I wouldn't believe it even if you beat me to death!] [Old lady, you should really go see a doctor. You can't just accuse people based on your delusions.] Martha stared at the screen and spoke calmly: "I am not delusional. I have already gone to the police." "I'm livestreaming, not for money, not to snatch my grandchild, and certainly not for clout. I just want to seek the truth for my child." "My son, Arthur, was smart, cheerful, and polite from a young age. He was a gifted child. Everyone who knew him liked him; everyone praised him! Once, I sprained my ankle outside, and he gritted his teeth and carried me on his back for miles to get home. He was only eleven then, skinny and small, his head barely reaching my shoulder." "When he was fourteen, he excitedly held up his high school entrance exam results to share the good news with me, but that day, because I was divorcing his father, I had to leave that home." "Later, I would often dream of him as he was that day. Carefully tugging at my clothes, looking helpless and terrified, calling out over and over for Mommy not to leave." Tears streamed from her eyes, slowly rolling down her deeply lined face. "A week ago, my son Arthur died. At the prime age of 35, he drowned in his own bathtub." "Everyone tells me it was an accident, but I know it wasn't. He was murdered." "Back then, I resolutely shook off his hand, and now I've come back for him. Although I am a mother with no power, no connections, and no skills, since I am here, I absolutely will not let my son die alone and in obscurity." Her voice was old and tired, but her eyes were piercingly clear. The gentleness and resilience of a mother intertwined, merged, and extended from her... The livestream went silent for a moment. Then the comments flooded in. [I believe this isn't acting. I don't believe any actor could perform this authentically.] [Ma'am, we'll help you!] [I just screen-recorded this. I'll make clips and share them so more people can see. Maybe someone can provide some information.] I stared intently at the screen. At Martha on the screen.
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