Chapter 1

My husband, Andrew Graham, had always hated my son, Charlie. He believed he had only married me because I had trapped him with the child I was carrying.

By the time Charlie turned five, Andrew had not spent a single birthday with him.

Three days ago, Charlie and I were in a car accident on our way home from school.

Using his smartwatch, Charlie called Andrew for help. "Dad, please save us. Our car flipped over. Mom looks like she's dead, and she's bleeding nonstop. I hurt so bad too."

He sneered, "You are just a kid, yet already lying all the time, just like your mother. Perfect. If you're dying, hurry up and get it over with. Don't ever bother me again." Then he blocked Charlie's number.

When Charlie was dying and only wanted to see him one last time, he was boarding a plane to Iceland, hand in hand with his old flame, fulfilling the promise he had once made to her to watch the aurora.

Andrew never showed up. Not even on the day Charlie was laid to rest.

*****

Charlie had died, and before he passed, he kept talking about wanting to give the painting he made to his father as a birthday gift.

The day Charlie and I had the car accident happened to be Andrew's birthday.

Charlie had already prepared a birthday card for Andrew days in advance, and he had carefully painted a picture to give him that very day.

Even though he was only five and Andrew had never once celebrated a birthday for him, he still saw his father as his hero. He told me he really loved his father.

That morning, before going to kindergarten, he reminded me to be the first one at the school to pick him up. He wanted to rush home, hide his painting in Andrew's study, and surprise him.

But that afternoon, the accident happened, and I lost my son forever.

The roads were icy and slippery that day. After picking up Charlie from kindergarten, I had been driving cautiously, barely pressing the gas.

As we neared home, we waited in the left-turn lane for the green light.

Then, a semi-truck—illegally entering the city—couldn't stop in time and slammed straight into our car.

Our car was thrown violently. The screech of brakes and the grinding of metal against asphalt tore at my ears. The airbag dust stung my face. My mind went blank. All I could do was instinctively search for Charlie.

As my senses slowly came back, I heard his terrified cries. "Mom, what's happening? I'm so scared. You're bleeding. I can't move either. It hurts so much..."

The world around us was a blur of chaos. I flipped in the car, spotting Charlie also tossed about in the back seat. Our car must have rolled.

His tiny face was pale and bruised, his little head pressed against the seat until it swelled red and purple.

I tried to move, to pull him into my arms. "Charlie, don't be afraid. I'm here. I will save you..."

But the seatbelt had me trapped, and my legs felt pinned. A ripping pain shot through me—I couldn't move at all.

Blood streamed from somewhere onto my face, from my chin to my cheek, stinging my eyes.

Everything in front of me turned a bloody red.

At the same time, my consciousness faded bit by bit. Before everything went dark, I heard Charlie using his phone watch to call Andrew.

"Dad, please save us. Our car flipped over. Mom looks dead—she's bleeding so much. I'm in so much pain too."

But he sneered, "You are just a kid, yet already lying all the time, just like your mother. Perfect. If you're dying, hurry up and get it over with. Don't ever bother me again."

Charlie broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, calling out "Dad" over and over, then crying in fear for "Mom."

My heart shattered into pieces. I wanted so badly to pull him into my arms, to hold him and calm him down. But I couldn't move. I couldn't speak.

I was unbearably tired. I just wanted to sleep.

The noise around me slowly disappeared. All I could hear was a mechanical female voice repeating again and again in my ear. "Sorry, the number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later."

Then everything dissolved into a hazy void.