On a stormy day, my husband, Michael Scott, called my mom and asked her to buy him a mango cake.

My mom braved the downpour to get the cake but got into a serious accident on the way.

By the time I received the message and got to the hospital, my mom was already at death's door.

"Michael wanted mango cake, but I ruined it. I'm so useless..."

Before she could finish her words, she passed away.

Until her death, she was still holding the broken mango cake.

With tears in my eyes, I called Michael like twenty times before he answered. Finally, he picked up his phone, but the first words came out of his mouth angered me, "What's the color of your bra today?"

Listening to the laughter coming from the other end of the phone, I felt so bitter. Rage burst in me as I questioned, "You're allergic to mango, Michael. Why the hell did you ask my mom to buy you a mango cake?"

Over the phone, I heard his childhood friend's tearful voice, "Sarah, it was my fault. I lost a game of truth or dare, and Michael took the punishment for me by asking your mom to get the mango cake. If you're going to blame someone, blame me!"

I wiped my tears and said coldly, "Please tell your lover to come back and divorce me when he's available."

Michael softly comforted Emily for a while, then finally replied with irritation, "Fine, we can get a divorce, but leave Emily out of it."

I dragged my tired body, without crying or making trouble. I silently handled my mom's funeral.

For three consecutive days, Michael seemed to have disappeared. I received neither message nor call from him.

I don't really expect him to do anything.

I just feel bad for my mom.

"Cook me a bowl of spaghetti."

Three days later, Michael finally returned home.

He took off his suit jacket and slumped down on the sofa.

It was as if the whole of him had been hollowed out.

The faint scent of Emily's perfume still lingered on his suit.

In the past, I would prepare meals for him in the kitchen and serve him properly.

When we got married, he told me that happiness was coming home to someone who’s waiting for you with a warm meal.

Because of what he said, I prepared dinner waited for him in the dim light every day in the past five years.

But this time, I sat in a corner of the sofa, quietly watching him.

Noticing I hadn’t moved for a while, Michael stood up, looked at my puffy, tear-filled eyes, and frowned, "Are you still angry about the game? It's just a small thing."

I looked at him, my voice trembling with anger and sorrow, "A small thing? You think sending my mom out in a storm to get something you never even wanted is a small thing?"

It was this so-called little thing of his that caused my mom's death.

When I thought about how my mother was still blaming herself for not delivering the cake before she died, I couldn't help but feel bitter.

Michael was momentarily taken aback by my sudden agitation. "Is Mom mad?" he asked. "Don't worry, I'll smooth things over with her later. She always spoils me; she'll forgive me for sure."

After saying that, Michael threw an exquisite gift box in front of me.

"I bought this gift especially for you. Do you like it?"

I glanced at the packaging and it was a women's handbag.

He said he bought it specially for me.

But the outer packaging had obviously been opened.

If I remember correctly, this bag appeared in Emily's Instagram two days ago.

She captioned it at the time: [He said he wanted to give me the best.]

The accompanying picture was a photo of Emily happily holding the limited edition handbag.

In the far corner of the photo, there was a bag in the dustbin.

The one Michael gave me now.

How ridiculous.

Give me the unwanted gifts that others throw in the trash.

I laughed at myself and said calmly, "When are we getting a divorce?"

Michael's face darkened and he frowned. "Sarah, are you serious?"

"Divorce is fine, only if I hear it from the mouth of Mom. I don't believe she'll agree to it."

After saying that, Michael slammed the door and left.

Michael got angry.

It was like this every time we quarreled. No matter whose fault it was, he would slam the door and refuse to talk.

In the end, I was the one who humbled myself for him and wrapped up the quarrel.

But this time, I wouldn't.

I took out the drafted divorce agreement from my bag and looked at it carefully.

Then I dragged my suitcase and left resolutely.

I met Michael Scott because of my mom.

Back when Michael was still in college, he swiped his dad's car, drove without a license, and bam, hit my mom.

Michael jumped out of the car, totally freaked out, and checked on my mom.

He kept saying sorry to my mom, begging her not to call the police and saying he would pay whatever it took.

My mom, despite the pain, got up. Seeing Michael's guilty and scared face, she felt a bit sorry for him.

So she waved it off, didn't call the cops, didn't ask for anything, and just went home.

That day, I saw my mom all banged up, and I felt both heartbroken and furious.

I hated Michael so much.

The next day, Michael showed up at our place with a bunch of bags.

My mom was really pleased, but I wasn't nice to him and gave him a hard time.

Michael didn't mind my attitude, though. He dropped his rich-kid airs.

He served coffee and water, taking good care of my mom at our place.

He said my mom was the kindest, most genuine person he'd ever met.

People like her deserved to be treated well.

Since then, he came by almost every day.

Every time, he brought all sorts of health supplements and fancy, expensive gifts.

Some were for my mom, some for me.

He and my mom got along better and better.

They'd chat and laugh all day, close as if they were mother and son.

The neighbors envied my mom, saying she had found an amazing, filial son-in-law.

Whenever he heard this, Michael just smiled and didn't deny it.

And I, as always, gave him a hard time.

Until one day, I came home and found my mom passed out on the floor.

No matter how I called her, she didn't respond.

Watching my mom's face get paler, I was at a loss, my mind blank.

Just when I was feeling most helpless and desperate, Michael appeared.

Without a word, he carried my mom to his car and took us to the hospital.

The whole way, Michael floored it.

Looking at his anxious profile, he seemed to be glowing, almost dazzling, brighter than the sun I'd ever seen.

He sped the whole way, rushing my mom to the ER as fast as he could.

The doctors said my mom's condition was critical. If it had been a few minutes later, she would've been gone.

I slumped down in a corridor chair, terrified, my heart trembling.

Michael walked up to me and looked me in the eye,

"Be my girlfriend. From now on, your mom is my mom. I'll take care of her with you."

It was a simple sentence, but it hit me hard.

My uneasy heart instantly calmed down.

The pure, sincere love in his eyes moved me deeply.

I almost couldn't help but say, "Yes."

In that moment, we smiled at each other, our eyes full of determination, as if we'd decided to be together forever.

When my mom found out we were together, she smiled so much she couldn't stop. I hadn't seen her smile like that since my dad died.

She always told me I was lucky to have met a good man like Michael.

I thought so too.

To me, Michael was a lover, family, and a treasure-like surprise.

After we got married, I put him first in everything and cared about his joys and sorrows more than my own.

Back then, he doted on me a lot too.

He was also very considerate and caring toward my mom.

We were deeply in love, and our life was extremely happy.

But this happiness ended when Emily Davis came back to the States.

She's Michael's childhood sweetheart, irreplaceable in his heart.

Michael's gentle gaze shifted from me to Emily.

"Emily just got back, and there's a lot she needs help with, so I won't be home for a few days."

"Emily's got a cold. I'll go give her some meds. You guys can celebrate your birthday without me."

"Emily's not well and can't be without me, please be understanding..."

No matter when or where, Michael would drop everything and rush over just because Emily called.

If I asked about it, I'd be seen as unreasonable.

I couldn't sleep at night because of it and was often sad.

But I didn't want to make my mom sad.

I didn't want to break up the family.

And because of my love for Michael that I couldn't let go, I endured it again and again.

I thought that as long as I quietly maintained this relationship, our family would stay as peaceful and stable as before.

But I was wrong.

My tolerance was met with Michael's even more unscrupulous treatment.

This time, my mom actually died in an incident caused by a game between him and Emily.

I was heartbroken, angry, and utterly desperate.

As my mom was cremated, my love for Michael turned to ashes too.

Four days after moving out of the villa and back to my mom's old house, I picked the cemetery.

I was getting ready to bury my mom's urn.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw Michael's stern face.

Emily was next to him, with four bodyguards behind him.

Michael rushed into the house, looking around frantically.

Finally, he came back to me and demanded, "Where's Mom?"

I looked at the urn wrapped in black cloth in my hand and croaked, "It's too late to look for her now!"

Michael's face darkened.

Anger flashed in his eyes, "Where did you hide her?"

I stared at him, confused, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you get it? Emily's health is fragile. Why would Mom steal her special medicine formula? That's her lifeline!"

"You just can't stand her, can you?"

Michael's voice was ice cold.

His words cut deep.

I thought Michael put on all the acts because he was aware that he went too far and about to apologize for everything he'd done.

Or maybe he felt guilty after finding out my mom had died.

But no, he was here to accuse Mom because of Emily.

This was too much.

It wasn't enough that he caused her death, now he wanted to slander her too.

I stared at Michael coldly and said, "If you want to protect Emily, fine, but don't drag my mom into this."

Michael shoved his phone in my face and said coldly, "See for yourself."

A surveillance video played.

In the video, a woman entered Emily's villa, looking around.

A few minutes later, she sneaked out with something in her arms.

The woman in the video looked a lot like my mom, from her dress to her figure and profile.

After the video ended, Emily's eyes filled with tears, and she said, all pitiful, "After your mom secretly came to my house yesterday, my special medicine disappeared. Sarah, I didn't do anything to provoke your mom, did I? Why would she come after my life?"

Emily has severe asthma. The special medicine she mentioned is what she needs every time she has an attack.

I heard that the formula is unique and priceless.

If the formula is lost, Emily would be without her life-saving medicine, which is a big deal.

But I knew this was just a sad drama she was putting on.

"Sarah, I've told you before, I only see Emily as a little sister. She's not in good health, so what's wrong with me taking better care of her? Why can't you believe me? Why would Mom steal her formula?"

Disappointment laced Michael's words.

Clearly, he'd already decided my mom was a thief.

I looked at him and said sadly, "Michael, you and my mom were like mother and son. Don't you know her? Do you really think she'd steal?"

Hearing this, Michael's frown relaxed a bit, and he seemed moved.

Seeing this, Emily jumped in at the right time,

"Sarah, I hope your mom didn't steal it, but I ran into her outside yesterday after she left my house. I asked why she came, and she said she was looking for Michael. Her tone was so fierce, like she thought I was some kind of villain..."

Emily looked more and more pitiful as she spoke, finally accusing me with tears in her eyes, "The witnesses and evidence are all here, and you're still defending her. Isn't that wrong?"

Emily's voice was soft, but her words were sharp.

Hearing this, Michael's face, which had just softened, instantly turned cold and stern again.

"Tell Mom to hand over the stuff. This is Emily's life we're talking about. You can't just do whatever you want."

Emily was obviously lying. My mom had been dead for a week. How could she have seen her yesterday?

But Michael still believed Emily's lies.

Over the years, my mom treated him like a son, accepting and caring for him wholeheartedly.

But what does she get in return?

The label of a thief.

Ridiculous.

My mom's years of dedication were worth less than a single word from Emily.

My mom was still thinking about him until her death.

At this moment, I really felt sorry for my mom.

Michael had been bewitched by Emily, and he wouldn't believe anything I said.

Never mind.

Too tired to argue, I stopped talking and just walked past Michael and left.

Emily chased me outside the yard and stopped me,

"Sarah, if you leave like this, what about my medicine? Hurry and ask your mom to hand over my stuff!"

I looked at Emily and said bitterly, "Emily, if you want to be a mistress, then be one, but don't use my mom to get ahead."

"You know whether my mom stole your recipe or not. You did this just to be with Michael. I'll help you."

"I've already signed the divorce papers. As soon as Michael signs them, you two can be together openly."

After saying that, I walked around Emily and left.

But Emily still didn't give up and continued to stop me, "Sarah, stop confusing people and twisting the truth. Are you in such a hurry to leave because you feel guilty? What's in your black cloth? Is my formula in it?"

After saying that, she reached out without hesitation and yanked the urn wrapped in black cloth from my hand.

Emily usually looks frail, but at this moment she had the strength to snatch my things.

I wasn't paying attention, and she pulled the urn out of my hand.

By the time I reacted, the urn had already fallen heavily to the ground.

The ashes scattered all over the ground.

It reflected a pale light and hurt my eyes.

My mind exploded instantly, and a fire of anger burned in my chest.

"I thought it was my formula? Turns out it's just a box of flour..."

Emily muttered with disgust.

Slap!

Before she could finish, I slapped her hard across the face.

"How dare you hit me?"

Emily covered her face and looked at me in disbelief.

"I'm going to kill you too!"

I lunged at Emily like a madwoman.

My mom died in a game between her and Michael.

Now Emily had smashed my mom's urn.

I can't stand it.

"Stop her!"

Behind us, Michael gave an order.

Two bodyguards came forward instantly and held me tightly on the left and right.

I couldn't move an inch.

Emily covered her face and huddled in Michael's arms, "Michael, I feel so much pain and discomfort..."

After saying that, Emily suddenly started breathing heavily as if she was triggered.

"Emily, don't be anxious, breathe slowly, and don't get your heart racing."

Michael hurriedly comforted Emily, his eyes full of anxiety and concern.

Emily glanced at me secretly, then spoke softly to Michael, "Michael, I just want my formula back, is that wrong? I know you always love Sarah, but you can't spoil her like this, can you? It's too much."

As she spoke, she almost burst into tears.

Michael was heartbroken and comforted her softly, "Emily, don't worry, I will definitely get to the bottom of this."

After saying that, Michael walked up to me, stared at me with stern eyes, and said coldly,

"Sarah, it seems I've been too lenient with you, which is why you're so out of control. For a box of flour, you actually attacked Emily."

"Hurry up and apologize to her."