Ashes of Betrayal
On my son’s birthday, my husband had asked his first love to pick our son up from our home.
While I stubbornly refused to let him go, a huge fire broke out in the hallway during our standoff.
I was struck by falling debris, and blood started streaming from my head. However, my son was unharmed as he lay beneath me.
My husband, who was a firefighter, came forward to rescue us. But he handed the only gas mask he had to his first love.
“Miss Leia has a weaker constitution. Dad, please get her out first. Mom, wait for the other firefighters to save you!”
I watched them leave with a faint, bitter smile.
It appeared that they had both forgotten my severe asthma and the fact that I would die without a gas mask.
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