We had been married for three years and known each other for seven, but Devon never defended me like this before.

I thought he was just introverted and bad at expressing himself.

I never imagined he had given his affection to another woman.

Devon nervously took Marisa's hand and gently blew on it. "It's okay, Marisa. Don't worry."

That hot soup felt like it had been poured over my heart, burning it.

"Devon, do you know what you're eating?" I asked.

"Just some sandwiches. What's the big deal? You're just being petty and jealous of Marisa. I told you. We're buddies," he replied.

Marisa chimed in, "Devon, I'm different from those jealous women. You don't have to worry about me. Just go comfort your wife."

I was so furious that tears streamed down my face.

"That was a memory from my mom. She made those sandwiches for me right before she died," I said.

Devon looked up, frowning deeply.

"Stop talking nonsense. What kind of condition was your mom in? How could she make sandwiches? Can you think before you lie?" he retorted.

The power of a mother's love was immense.

Before she passed away, my mom had a moment of clarity. She asked someone to buy the freshest shrimp and vegetables.

She peeled the shrimp, washed the vegetables, and made the dough all by herself.

Wearing an oxygen mask, she could barely knead the dough with her frail hands, yet she insisted on finishing those sandwiches for me.

Before she died, my mom held my hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

"I wanted to make you twenty, but I just don't have the strength. I only made seventeen. After I'm gone, remember to take care of yourself," she said.

She had made those sandwiches from morning till night.

On the day of her cremation, I couldn't eat anything.

In the end, I heated five sandwiches, but I didn't feel hungry at all the whole day.

I froze the remaining twelve.

Those twelve sandwiches were the pillars of my mother's love, holding up my life.

As long as I had that box of sandwiches, it felt like my mom hadn't left me.

But now, Devon and Marisa had ruined everything.

They made my mother die again.

"I told you not to touch that bag of sandwiches before I left. There's so much food in the fridge. Why did you have to touch that bag?" I said.

By this point, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

Devon's brow furrowed tighter.

We had fought before, and he knew I was stubborn and wouldn't cry easily.

"Okay, it's just a bag of frozen sandwiches. Stop making a scene. I'll compensate you. There's a supermarket downstairs. How about three bags?" he said.

His indifferent attitude made me realize he never thought about where that bag of sandwiches came from.

He never took my words to heart.

From the sandwiches to every little thing in life, he chose to ignore anything related to me.

"Does it matter, Devon? Those sandwiches were made by my mom when she was gravely ill. They are one of a kind—something money can't buy," I said.

Marisa scoffed, "You can come up with anything to compete for attention. I'm different. I wouldn't put Devon in a tough spot."

"Did you hear that? I'll buy you sandwiches, but you have to apologize to Marisa first," Devon said.

Marisa, not again.

In Devon's heart and eyes, there was only Marisa.

He didn't care how sad I was about losing my mom or how exhausted I was handling everything alone.

He only cared if Marisa was hurt or angry.

Tears flowed continuously down my face.

But before I could speak, Devon slapped me across the face.

At that moment, I felt like my world had fallen apart.

Devon's slap shattered my already broken heart.

I said through tears, "Fine, if you only care about Marisa, then I'll leave. This home is yours now."

I grabbed everything in front of me and threw it at Devon's face, then turned and walked away.

I cried as I walked, suddenly feeling how vast the world was, and I couldn't find a single place to belong.

My mom was gone, and I had no home.

Before she passed away, she kept saying how glad she was to see me married.

That way, after she was gone, I wouldn't be all alone.

But there would never be anyone who could love me like she did, giving everything for me.

I wished I could trade everything I had to have her back, healthy and by my side.

Exhausted from all the emotional pain, I suddenly felt darkness closing in and collapsed.

When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed.

A nurse was giving me an IV drip.

The doctor told me that I had been overworking myself and that my emotional stress had led to an accidental miscarriage.

I was stunned. My hand instinctively went to my flat belly.

A small life had quietly come and gone. It knew it wasn't wanted and slipped away without a sound.

The kind man who brought me here had even bought me some food.

He awkwardly introduced himself, saying, "I'm Ross Castaneda. I'm not a bad guy. I live in the same complex as you. I saw you collapsed by the road with tears all over your face when I was taking out the trash. I'm sorry. If I had called an ambulance sooner, maybe your baby could have been saved."

"Thank you. It's not your fault," I replied.

The real culprit should be at home right now, laughing at me.

Suddenly, something clicked in my mind. I opened the surveillance camera app at home and pulled up the footage from a few days ago.

On the day I left, Devon was busy in the study.

But he wasn't working. He was playing video games with Marisa.

He said, "Why should I care if her mom died? It's such a remote village. I couldn't care less about going there.

"This works out perfectly. She already lacks love; she'll cling to me even more.

"She wouldn't dare get mad at me. If I just walk away, she'll have nothing."

The moment I had stepped out, he had immediately invited Marisa over.

When I was around, I did all the housework.

But in these few days, he had taken the initiative to sweep the floor, cook, and even wash Marisa's underwear.

Each scene mixed with Devon's words wrapped around my heart like a thorny net.

The pain made it hard to breathe.

I was lacking love, which is why I fell head over heels for Devon and chased him for six months.

I could set aside my little temper for him, learning to be the perfect wife while juggling work and taking care of him.

I loved him deeply, but even that kind of love couldn't withstand this kind of trampling.

My mom and my child...

These two closest to me, connected by blood, had shown me the truth.

Someone like Devon didn't deserve my love.

After finishing the IV drip, I made up my mind.

I would leave Devon forever.