After I died in childbirth,
Song Jinnian brought the children to visit my grave every year.
But they always went to the wrong grave.
They would chatter away to the auntie buried beside me.
So she was always teasing me.
“What was the point of living your whole life? Your husband doesn’t love you, and your son doesn’t even recognize you.”
“You were buried in such a hurry, and they didn’t even give you a proper grave.”
I looked at my son, who was impatient to leave,
and leaned close to his ear to whisper, “You little brat, your mom doesn’t want you anymore.”
She didn’t know it wasn’t that Song Jinnian didn’t love me.
I had stopped loving him long ago.
