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On the sixth anniversary of my marriage to Bradley Scott, I was in a car accident and ended up in the operating room. At the time, he and our son were celebrating childhood sweetheart--Florence's birthday. I mustered all my strength to contact him to come to the hospital to sign the paperwork and pay the fees. After a long time, the call finally connected. “Gina, are you annoying or what? Don’t you get tired of celebrating anniversaries every year? Florence just returned to the country and has no one to rely on. She needs someone right now.” Even my own son, the one I gave birth to, spoke up for the outsider: "Mom, could you please not be so mean? Aunt Florence is so pitiful. We just wanted to spend her birthday with her." " After being discharged from the hospital, I resolutely decided to get a divorce. Later,that father and son acted like they’d lost their minds, begging me to come home. … Before the accident, I had just received a photo from Bradley’s childhood sweetheart. She was holding a cake and smiling sweetly at Bradley, while my son Tommy was cuddled in her arms. The three of them looked just like a family of three in the photo. “Gina, I'm so sorry. I didn't know today was your wedding anniversary. After the birthday, I'll have them leave later.” This wasn't the first time Florence had flaunted and provoked in front of me. But this time, I didn't care. Today was my sixth wedding anniversary with Bradley. Last month, I asked Bradley how we should celebrate, and he just said it was up to me. That’s right, I’ve always been the one preparing, while he just shows up after work. I had already booked the restaurant and prepared the anniversary gift. Even the dress I was going to wear today and the perfume I was going to spray were carefully chosen by me. I waited for him with anticipation, but after five hours, I couldn’t reach him by phone and had to ask his secretary. “Madam, the president canceled tonight’s work and left early.” So Bradley wasn’t only focused on work—he just didn’t direct that focus toward me. I turned off my phone screen, looked at the table of food and wine, and Suddenly, I felt it was completely boring. Chasing after Bradley brazenly was pointless. Staying home to raise our son and manage the household was even more pointless. The wind blew across my face, and the intoxication faded slightly. The green light turned on, and I stepped onto the crosswalk. Then, unexpectedly, it happened. A car lost control and careened toward me, its headlights flashing. In a daze, someone grabbed my arm. All my senses seemed to slow down as if someone had pressed the rewind button. Some people were crying, others were shouting. I couldn't move. When I came to my senses, I was already lying in the operating room. The doctor told me to contact my family and come to the hospital quickly to sign the paperwork and pay the fees. I forced myself to take out my phone and dial Bradley's number. “Beep.” The phone rang once and was immediately hung up. This happened twice in a row. In the past, I wouldn't have bothered him like this. Now I was the one who's been in a car accident and needed surgery, and he and our son were the only family members left. After a long time, he finally answered the call. But as soon as he spoke, he launched into an impatient rebuke. “Gina, are you annoying or what? Don't you get tired of celebrating anniversaries every year? Florence just returned to the country, has no one to rely on, and needs someone right now.” She needed someone to celebrate her birthday with, but what about me? I wanted to explain that I was in the hospital. Between surgery and a birthday, I thought Bradley would know which was more important. Before I could say anything, my son Tommy’s voice came through the phone. “Mom, can you please not be so harsh? Aunt Florence is so pitiful; we just want to celebrate her birthday with her.” My son and Florence were urging Bradley. “Dad, hurry over. We’re about to cut the cake.” “Bradley, are you done yet?” Before hanging up, Bradley helplessly instructed me: “Stop causing trouble. Tommy and I will be back later.” How ironic! I was in the emergency room, while my husband and son were busy celebrating someone else’s birthday.