I had a fight with Yurou, but it wasn't a serious matter.

It was just because her grades dropped a few ranks.

Yurou might be going through a rebellious phase. Before I could ask anything, she crazily tore up the exam paper.

Then she ran out of the house barefoot.

I felt a pang in my heart, so I grabbed her shoes and chased after her.

After turning two streets, I finally saw Yurou's figure.

She was happily licking an ice cream with a boy.

From time to time, Yurou pouted and complained about something to him.

She looked extremely adorable.

I felt relieved.

So, my daughter has entered the stage of budding love.

A child immersed in love is the happiest.

If necessary, I'll talk to her later about the symbiotic relationship between grades and relationships.

I shouted, "Yurou," while holding her shoes.

My daughter might have been scared when she saw me.

She grabbed the boy's hand and ran ahead in a hurry.

I tried to catch up, just wanting her to put on her shoes.

But before I could express myself, a truck went out of control.

It came directly towards me at high speed.

I didn't have time to dodge. There was a loud noise that pierced my eardrums.

Then, in my conscious state, I felt an unbearable weight crushing down on my body.

Next, I would separate from my soul, and the person on the ground would stop breathing.

At that moment when my daughter ran over, I wanted to hug her.

I wanted to tell her.

"Stay put, Mom is here."

It was in vain. She couldn't hear me.

But I could hear Yurou's torn screams.

She didn't dare touch me.

She couldn't even look at me.

She could only crouch down and cry loudly, just one fist away from my body.

When my husband arrived,

Yurou wanted to stand up, but she had been sitting on the ground for too long, and her legs were weak. She almost fell back down.

Fortunately, my husband acted quickly and held her.

"Daddy, it's my fault, all my fault. I killed Mom."

"I'm a bad person, I'm a bad person."

My daughter sobbed, leaning on my husband's shoulder, unable to open her swollen eyes.

I saw that my husband's eyes were also filled with deep redness, but he still held back his tears and calmly patted our daughter's back.

"Yurou, it's okay, Mom wouldn't blame you. Are you hurt? Let's go to the hospital for a check-up, okay?"

Yurou shook her head while crying.

"I want to go home. I want Mom to hold me. What should I do? Mom will never hold me again."

My husband's voice choked up as well. He glanced at the body on the ground, then quickly helped Yurou stand, and crouched in front of her.

"Let's go home. From now on, Daddy will carry you."