The living room atmosphere was entirely unlike the bustle outside, eerily quiet, silent and cold.
A middle-aged man sat on the sofa, cradling a cell phone as he played with it.
The woman busying herself in the kitchen brought out the food, along with a cake that had a candle in it.
Mr. Hugh put down his phone and asked with a frown, "Whose birthday is it today?"
"Our son's."
Mrs. Hugh pulled out a chair to sit down, took out a lighter, and carefully started lighting the candles one by one, her smile bittersweet and her movements cautious.
But after several attempts, whether it was a problem with the lighter or the candles being damp, they simply wouldn't light.
"Whoosh."
The flame lit and then went out again.
Mrs. Hugh's smile gradually faded, her body seemed drained of strength, her limbs weak, "Mason, are you blaming Mommy? Mommy was wrong, truly wrong... "
