“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

The festive atmosphere that had been chaotic just a moment ago was suddenly silenced as if someone had hit the mute button. One of Mark’s friends, bewildered, turned off the music. Everyone stood up with a clumsy and respectful attitude. Through the open front door walked a middle-aged man dressed in an impeccable suit, with an unmistakable aura of leadership. It was Mr. Harrison, the owner of the company where Mark worked, the highly respected president. Mark turned pale. He absolutely did not expect his top boss to come to his humble home. Besides, he hadn’t invited him because he didn’t consider himself at that level. Mr. Harrison entered with an impassive expression.