After mom
After mom 1

After Mom Died, I Gave Up My Husband and Son

When my mother died from an asthma attack, locked in her room by my son’s prank, where was my doctor husband? He was at his ex–girlfriend’s performance with our son.

I was devastated. I called my husband over a dozen times before he finally picked up.

But before I could speak, he snapped, “What’s your problem? It’s just a performance with our kid. You’re calling non–stop like it’s a matter of life and death. Always lying and making up excuses to get me home. Stop calling!”

My son chimed in, “Mom’s so annoying! I wish Emma could be my mom instead.”

Emma took the phone, “Kids say the darndest things. You won’t take it seriously, right?”

Fine, I’ll give you what you want.

I addressed my son through the phone, “If you want her to be your mom, tell your dad to come back and divorce me.”

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My mom died with her eyes wide open. In just a few short hours, a living, breathing person turned into a box of ashes.

The pain of losing my mother was soul–crushing.

My phone pinged with a message. It was my friend forwarding Emma’s Instagram post.

“Performance wrapped up perfectly! Check out our six–handed piano play with my two clingy fans. How’s our chemistry?”

In the video, my son and husband flanked Emma like two bodyguards. The three of them played the piano in perfect harmony, looking every bit like a happy family.

My husband even commented: “Calling us clingy already? You ungrateful little thing.”

Emma replied: “Hmph! You know very well how grateful I am, especially after last night;)”

The pain in my chest spread through my entire body.

While my husband and his ex were playing piano with our son, my mother was having an asthma attack, with no one to help her.

While they were flirting shamelessly, my mother had already been taken to the crematorium, turned to ashes.

They got their perfect moment, but what about my mom? Who’s going to bring her back to life?

I was filled with so much hatred!

When my mom called for help, I immediately called 911, but the ambulance couldn’t arrive fast enough.

I drove home as fast as I could, desperately calling Jacob to go save my mom.

Emma’s performance venue was close to our house. It would have taken him just a few minutes to go back and forth.

But Jacob remained unmoved, thinking it was just an excuse to get him home.

“Abigail, you know I hate being lied to!”

His tone softened, “I don’t want to miss a second of Emma’s performance. Be good and don’t cause trouble now.”

No matter how I explained, he wouldn’t listen. He was convinced I was lying.

I pleaded, choking back tears, “For the sake of how my father once saved your entire family, I’m begging you to save my mom. I’m not lying!”

But my words only angered him, “Enough! How long are you going to use your father’s life to emotionally blackmail me!”

At this moment, our son urged him to hang us “D.

3:00 PM

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I screamed desperately, “Don’t hang up! Jacob, I’m begging you, my mom is dying.”

Jacob’s patience ran out, “Then let her die.”

My mom died because she didn’t get help in time, while their six–handed piano video went viral online. Emma even gained a bunch of new followers because of it.

After dealing with my mom’s funeral and forcing myself to sign the divorce papers, I finally collapsed into a deep sleep.

My husband and son returned three days later.

“Is dinner ready? I texted you earlier. Why are you still sleeping?” Jacob barged in, roughly yanking the blanket off me, his face full of disgust as he questioned me from above.

I must look a mess, but I couldn’t care less.

Lucas pinched his nose in disgust, “Dad, I’m hungry. Let’s go replace Emma. Let this dirty mom sleep to death.”

My heart felt like it had plunged into an icy abyss.

This was the son I had risked my life to give birth to.

I almost died from massive blood loss during his birth. After he was born, he cried day and night. I held and comforted him around the clock, fed him, completely worn out.

I had worked so hard to raise him to this age, yet his birthday wish was for Emma to be his mother.

My son truly took after his father, even fancying the same woman.

Looking at this flesh of my flesh, my heart shattered. It was because of him that I lost my mother.

Thinking of my mom who died with her eyes open, I could no longer contain my emotions.

I grabbed Lucas hysterically, demanding, “You knew grandma had asthma. Why did you lock her alone in the room? Do you know you killed her!”