My husband's phone was always on, but he'd set it to Do Not Disturb for me and our son. On our son's birthday, a fire broke out. I called my husband 99 times to beg for help, but he didn't answer once. On the hundredth call, he finally picked up, only to scold me coldly. “You'd stoop to this just because you're jealous?” “Shengge has a hard enough time raising a child on her own. What's wrong with me helping her? Could you show a little empathy and understanding?” “Stop making a scene. I'll come home after I get her and her daughter settled.” I hung up with a bitter laugh. So he wasn't busy. He was thinking about his home with her. The fire grew fiercer, and our son's breathing grew weaker. I knew the flames had consumed our marriage and all the love between us. But when my husband saw our son's name on the fire rescue list, he completely lost his mind.
