"Don't even bother. You're useless. I've had enough of you," Lucia snapped coldly. Her face was twisted in disgust.
"Why are you still here?" Evelyn shrieked, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. She stomped towards me, her eyes bulging with fury. "Do you want him to suffer more?" She shoved me hard, her bony hands digging into my shoulders.
"You're just here to hurt him more, aren't you?" she spat, her breath hot on my face. "I won't let a viper like you anywhere near my son again!" Her chest heaved with rage as she continued, her voice reaching a near-scream, "I will see to it that my son divorces you. We're done with you. Get away from us!"
I glanced at Harvey, lying unconscious, then met her gaze, my face expressionless. My voice was low and even. "That's not up to you, is it? And you might be surprised what your son wants."
Evelyn's face twisted into an expression of pure fury, her cheeks blotchy and red. Her eyes widened. "What did you just say?!" she screeched, her voice cracking. She took a step forward, but Lucia held her back, whispering something into her ear, though her sharp glare never left me.
Nearby, several bystanders gathered closer, their phones still raised, capturing every detail of the confrontation. The red and white lights of the ambulance reflected on their faces, making their expressions of ridicule and judgment look even more exaggerated.
"Did you hear what she just said? How can she be so sure her husband won't divorce her?" someone muttered loudly.
"Does she think her husband can't live without her?" another voice chimed in, dripping with sarcasm.
"Ugh, shameless. How dare she say something like that?"
"Maybe she's got some dirt on him? That poor man is probably being blackmailed into staying with her," a man said, shaking his head disapprovingly.
Their words blended together into a cacophony of scorn and judgment, but I didn't flinch. I met their stares head-on. What did their opinions matter? They were just bystanders—strangers who thrived on spectacle. The storm of accusations and rumors they'd help spread didn't frighten me. In fact, it was exactly what I wanted.
***
The next day, the factory fire made it into the local headlines, but the focus quickly shifted. The videos of me allegedly refusing to use the key to save Harvey had gone viral overnight. Media outlets feasted on the scandal, plastering headlines across every platform: [Heartless Wife Leaves Husband to Burn?]
Online, comments poured in like venom.
[Monster!]
[Cold-blooded snake. If I were her husband, I'd leave her immediately!]
[She's clearly hiding something. Check her bank accounts and lovers—bet there's a man in the picture.]
Fabricated stories surfaced soon after. Opportunistic men, seeing a chance for attention, began to spin ridiculous tales of affairs and "secret relationships," fueling the fire with their lies. My name had become a public curse word.
***
When I arrived at the hospital the following morning, the lobby buzzed with activity. I walked past journalists clustered by the reception desk, their whispers carried faintly through the air.
Inside his room, Harvey sat upright in bed, pale and weak, with dark shadows beneath his eyes. He looked small against the stark white sheets. Yet his tired eyes flicked immediately to me and his expression softened with desperation.
"Maya!" he called out, his voice strained but urgent. He struggled to sit straighter, his trembling hands gripping the blanket. "You're finally here!" His eyes locked onto mine, searching, pleading. "I don't blame you at all. Please, don't do anything foolish."
The reporters who had been swarming him turned in unison, sensing a shift. Microphones were raised, cameras refocused. The red lights blinked alive once more and the lens of every device turned toward me.
Evelyn, perched by Harvey's side, scoffed loudly, drawing all eyes back to her. She tossed the damp towel onto the bedside table and turned to glare at me, a venomous smile twisting her lips. "Hmph! You still dare show your face here? I've never seen such a shameless woman!"
"Mom, stop it!" Harvey weakly interjected, wincing as he tried to calm her.
By the window, Lucia had been arranging a tray of freshly washed fruit. Now, she set it down with a deliberate click, the sound oddly sharp in the quiet room. A sardonic smile twisted her lips as she turned to me. "Why are you even here?" she asked, her voice cool with contempt.
"Why shouldn't I be here?" I shot back. My gaze swept over Evelyn and Lucia before settling briefly on Harvey, whose face had paled even more from the tension.
The journalists exchanged knowing glances, their eyes lighting up at the rising drama unfolding before them. A balding reporter pushed his way forward, his notebook and pen ready, his cameraman adjusting the focus.
"Excuse me," the reporter asked with practiced politeness, though his eager tone betrayed his excitement. "Are you his wife?"
I met his gaze directly, standing tall under the weight of all the cameras and judgment surrounding me. My voice was calm, steady and deliberate.
"Yes. I am."
The reporter's brow lifted slightly, his curiosity sharpened. "Then tell us—why didn't you save your husband? Do you have anything to say about these accusations?"
I tilted my head slightly, my eyes locking onto the nearest camera lens. The red light blinked, waiting for my words.
"Will you report the truth?"
