14

That day, the piercing sound of the ambulance accompanied me all the way. Francis' white shirt was stained with blood, redder than a rose. Steven's black suit, though the color remained unchanged, was constantly dripping with blood. They were both rushed to the ICU at the same time, but unfortunately, only one of them finally came out alive.

At Francis ' funeral, my ex-mother-in-law was so grief-stricken that she fainted several times. She angrily sent someone to take Linda out of the hospital, brutally broke her legs, and forced her to kowtow in front of her son's grave to apologize. I pushed Steven , who was sitting in a wheelchair , and we each laid a bouquet of flowers in front of Francis ' grave.

Staring at the photo on the tombstone, my heart was filled with mixed feelings, with bitterness and pain intertwined. I couldn't help but recall the words Francis said three days ago when he asked for reconciliation again: " Joyce , if I pay for our child's life, will you forgive me?" At that time, I was speechless because I didn't know how to respond. However, now that he sacrificed himself to save me, I still couldn't say the word "forgiveness". I really wanted to tell him: "I hope you can live to atone for your sins, even if we no longer love each other." After all, this is a precious life, and it should not lose its only chance to live because of a lunatic like Linda .