The night I find out I'm pregnant, my family's villa suddenly goes up in flames. I endure the suffocating smoke and run the risk of being disfigured as I run to my son's bedroom. However, it's empty. Just then, I hear his excited exclamations outside the window.

"Monica, you look so cool when putting out fires! I bet you'll get first place in this upcoming Firefighter Challenge!"

I'm about to head downstairs to lecture him when a wall collapses and crushes me. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I hear my stern, stoic husband praise Monica Sloan for her courage.

If I'm guessing correctly, my husband and son have started this fire to please her.

I stare at the door, which is so close and yet so far. I send out one final text before dying of asphyxiation.

Frowning, I stared at the body that was half buried under a wall. The right hand, burned to a crisp, was stretched out toward the door, while the left was holding onto the abdomen protectively.

The grotesque scene made me jump back in alarm, but as my soul slipped through the wall next to me, I came to the belated realization that I was dead.

That female corpse whose face was now unidentifiable after the fire was me.

Half an hour ago, I was elated as I came home with my pregnancy report in hand. However, before I even reached the front entrance, I saw black smoke billowing out of the blazing house.

Immediately, I thought about my son, Harrison Ellis, who should be sleeping in his room. Wasting no time, I drenched a piece of tissue to cover my nose and mouth before rushing in.

As soon as I entered the living room, I could feel the flames licking at my skin. The pain intensified as boils soon formed on my red, swollen skin.

Every time I breathed in, it felt as though I were inhaling burning hot coals. Even my throat felt like it'd been scalded, causing so much pain that I couldn't even speak. My tears flowed uncontrollably.

My instinctive reaction was to leave this place at once, but the thought of Harrison being caught in the fire upstairs made me grit my teeth and rush to him.

At last, with great difficulty, I made it to the room, but the doorknob was scalding hot too. Clenching my jaw, I grabbed the doorknob. Every inch of my skin that came into contact with it instantly turned red. I even saw smoke rising from it.

However, the room was empty. Before I could feel relieved that Harrison wasn't there, I heard his voice coming in through the window. Outside, he cried out in excitement, "Monica, you look so cool when you're putting out a fire. I bet you'll win the Firefighter Challenge this time!"

His childish exclamations made me a little dizzy, but at the very next moment, I was infuriated by how nonchalant he was about the fire—something dangerous enough to take lives.

I wanted to march down there at once to reprimand that immature son of mine, but as soon as I got to the door, the wall collapsed on me.

The searing pain shot from my back down to my abdomen, and I instinctively cupped it to protect my unborn child.

Nevertheless, I still felt something damp trickling out of me. I'd lost my child.

I felt even more lightheaded, but the voices that came from outside the house sounded even clearer to me now.

My husband, James Ellis, had always been a serious, no-nonsense man, but now he was praising another woman for her courage.

"You handled the situation very efficiently this time, Monica. I think you'll do well during the next Firefighter Challenge."

Oh. I'd almost forgotten that James was a firefighter too.

James had claimed that Monica Sloan, the woman Harrison had expressed his overwhelming admiration for, was merely nothing more than his colleague.

But in the last six months, Harrison no longer clung to me or needed me. Instead, he asked to spend time at James' workplace, often saying he wanted to see Monica.

At first, I didn't think much of it. I assumed it was normal for young children to like hanging out with a pretty young woman.

Alas, it had slipped my mind that a man like James would like a pretty young woman too.

The constant messages and calls at night had James rushing out of the house even in the middle of the night. Initially, I thought it was due to emergencies at work. After all, firefighters worked to save lives, and that was of the highest priority.

Yet, after inadvertently seeing the same name flashing on his screen several times, my sixth sense kicked in belatedly. I realized something was amiss.

The caller had been given the nickname "The Clumsy Little Klutz". It was such an affectionate nickname that I couldn't even try to talk myself out of feeling suspicious.

Once, after an intimate night with James, I couldn't resist checking his phone while he was in the shower.

He barely had any calls from his workplace. An overwhelming number of them had come from that woman. She was the only contact he'd pinned to the top of his chat list. Although their chat was simple and casual, it was filled with thoughts and comments that he never felt the need to share with me.

Whenever he responded to my texts, it was always a simple message saying, "Got it."

I proceeded to check the woman's WhatsApp stories and was immediately greeted with a photo of her and James. She'd even added a blissful message that made it clear how much he adored her.

"Thanks to the world's best captain, Captain Ellis, for getting me a cake!"

I checked to see when the story had been posted—August 27th.

That was our 7th wedding anniversary. He'd come home extremely late that night. Just as I thought he'd forgotten about our wedding anniversary, he'd brought out a small cake and given it to me.

Although it had clearly looked like a half-hearted gesture, it had made me feel loved anyway.

Alas, unaware of the situation then, I'd overlooked James' unnaturally stiff expression and the buttercream on his sleeve.

The cake in Monica's photo looked a lot more presentable than the one James had given me.

He'd only gotten me a cake for our anniversary because he'd needed to get a cake for Monica anyway. In fact, it had only been an afterthought.

When James came out of the shower, I tried to confront him with his phone, but he flew into a rage.

"Who allowed you to touch my phone? You're infringing on my privacy! Can't you give me some private space?"

When we were dating, James was the one who promised he would be more than happy to let me keep tabs on him as much as I wanted to prove that I was the only one he loved.

And now, after just ten years, he was lashing out at me and calling me unreasonable.

Our fight woke up Harrison, who was sleeping next door. His bleary eyes stared at me in fear. Sobbing, he kept calling for James and even Monica, but not me—his mother, who'd raised him.

I was overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of pain and sorrow, making it impossible for me to speak.

After a while, I looked at Harrison, who was hiding behind James, and asked, "Harrison, do you want me or your daddy?"

Harrison said he didn't want a fierce mommy like me. He wanted Monica to be his mommy.

Feeling utterly disappointed, I packed my bags and moved out of the house.

Just like that, three months passed.

When I found out I was pregnant, I considered getting an abortion. However, James had mentioned wanting a daughter many times. Even the boisterous Harrison had kept asking why he didn't have a sister yet.

In the end, I gave in and decided to talk to the two of them.

Never would I have thought that, upon returning home, both my child and I would end up dying in the fire they'd set just to please another woman.

Perhaps the lingering sense of indignation kept my soul tied to them. My soul drifted out of the house and floated beside James.

James, Monica, and Harrison were chatting away warmly and happily.

Harrison, who always liked rebelling against me, was staring at Monica, the woman he'd met less than three months ago, in awe. He was blushing as he clapped to celebrate her practice session.

James, my husband, was stroking Monica's head with an affectionate expression.

"You're not a little klutz anymore. I guess I have to change your nickname on my phone to 'The Little Genius'."

Feeling shy, Monica sweetly replied, "It's all thanks to your expert guidance, and you even set the fire so that I could get some hands-on practice! I'll do even better next time."

She was going to do even better next time, huh?

Looking at the still-burning house, I smirked mockingly.

My body was probably still burning in the lingering flames.