My husband's mother, Emma Harper, lived alone.

One day, her house suddenly caught fire, her life on a knife-edge.

I dialed my husband, Gerald Harper, a firefighter, over a dozen times before he finally picked up, clearly annoyed.

"What could possibly be so urgent? I'm busy helping Kimberly with her plumbing!"

I quickly told him about the fire at Emma's house and that she was trapped inside.

He just sneered. "You'd curse even my mother just to get me back home? You're a f*cking lunatic!"

And with that, he hung up.

Frustrated and helpless, I could only hope the other firefighters would arrive soon.

Half an hour passed before they finally showed up, and when they did, their faces paled as they saw the blaze. "Didn't Mr. Harper say Seraphina was lying?" they murmured.

Because of the delay, Emma perished in the flames. Gerald even missed her funeral, saying he was too busy with his old flame, Kimberly Foster.

Crushed by grief, I filed for divorce.

But Gerald tore up the papers, smashed Emma's urn, and spat, "Quit the act, Seraphina! You think I would believe this sh*t? If it weren't for my mom, I would've divorced you by now."

I seered at him.

This stupid man still had o idea that his mother was long gone.

*****

It was Saturday. Like every week, I had picked up groceries and brought them over to Emma.

But as soon as I stepped into the neighborhood, I saw thick, black smoke billowing into the air.

My heart sank, and I ran toward Emma's building.

A crowd had already gathered at the entrance of her apartment complex.

"Oh my God, Emma's still in there!" Sharon Rogers, her neighbor, rushed over to grab my arm as she saw me. "Call Gerald! Tell him to bring the his crew!"

I stared at the blazing fire, panic gnawing at my insides.

Gerald, my husband, was the captain of the fire brigade.

If he knew Emma was in danger, he'd definitely come right away.

I dialed him again, over and over, but he still wouldn't answer.

With no other choice, I called 911, praying they'd come soon.

As the fire raged on, I lifted my phone and zoomed in on the balcony to check on the situation inside the apartment.

Finally, I could see a figure struggling to climb out the window.

It was Emma!

She lived on the seventeenth floor. If she jumped, it would be fatal.

Cold sweat drenched me as I screamed, "Emma! Don't jump! The firefighters are coming!"

Maybe she heard me because she stopped and crouched in the corner, shaking.

Tears burned my eyes as I dialed Gerald again.

This time, he finally picked up, he talked as impatiently as ever.

"Seraphina Hill, what's your problem now?

"Can't it wait? I'm busy. Kimberly's plumbing is a mess with water everywhere, and I'm trying to fix it.

"I can't talk now!"