I am a wandering soul, a soul that is blown away by the wind. I looked at my broken body lying on the edge of the bathtub, blood still pouring out of my wrist. The blood slowly blended into the water, gradually turning from a rose-like dark red to an enchanting bright red. The face beside the bathtub has turned pale without a trace of blood. It is such a strong contrast. Looking at it, I feel a sense of revenge. It was he who pushed me into this desperate situation. I want him to regret it, but will he? He doesn't want to sign that thin marriage certificate with me. How can a man who can't even do this say that he loves me? The marriage certificate says that although it is not a guarantee of love, how much can a man who can't even afford this love you? So I know that he only loves her, and I am just a stupid interloper, but he should never provoke me today, five years later, and take away my son, who I regard as more important than life, and actually calls me aunt. Who says this is not the most deadly sentence. As a single mother, I have given him everything I have. I love him! Over the past five years of ups and downs, I have regarded my son as my spiritual support. Losing my son means losing everything I have! But his appearance deprived me of the only happiness in my life. I hated him, very much.