How Dare You Touch My Son?

My husband died protecting the border.

I took our three-year-old son on a train to bring his ashes home.

My son couldn’t hold back his quiet sobs.

The couple next to us exploded.

“Can’t you control your brat child?!”

They snatched my son, dragged him to the bathroom to punish him, slapping him, and even filmed it. They sneered:

“His dad died? ”

“So no one to teach him? We’ll do it!”

Along with the video, the news of my husband’s heroic sacrifice trended online.

The military command was furious, and the entire internet erupted!

My three-year-old son clung tightly to my arm, sobbing softly.

“Mommy, they said I’ll never see Daddy again. What does that mean?”

“Aren’t we going to bring Daddy home this time?”

I stroked his head, my own eyes welling up with tears.

Yesterday, General Thompson himself called me, informing me that my husband, Major Jake Miller, had died in the line of duty.

“Enemy forces secretly crossed the border. He fought bravely to protect his comrades—”

The General’s voice choked up. He said they had already bought our train tickets, so we could go say our final goodbyes to Jake.

After hanging up, I couldn’t control my emotions and broke down in tears.

My three-year-old son didn’t fully understand death, but he seemed to grasp that he might never see his dad again.

Leo bit his lip, his little shoulders trembling.

“My birthday is next month. Is Daddy not going to send me a toy gun anymore?”

Just as I opened my mouth, a young woman in the seat in front of us suddenly stood up, turned around, and yelled at my son, her face contorted with anger:

“So noisy! Do you have any manners?!”

Leo flinched in fear, instinctively apologizing.

She didn’t back down.

“Talking nonstop, and now crying endlessly! I’ve been putting up with you two for ages!”

I gripped my son’s hand tightly.

“I’m sorry, we’ll be more careful.”

Leo huddled beside me, trembling with fear.

The woman glared at him, clenching her fist in warning.

“Cry again, and I’ll call the police to take you away!”

Leo immediately covered his mouth with both hands and buried himself in my arms.

Only then did the woman scoff triumphantly and sit back down.

I glanced around the train car.

A few rows ahead, a man was loudly scrolling through TikTok videos, laughing heartily as he watched.

In the back, two middle-aged women were passionately gossiping about their family issues.

Before leaving with Leo, I had specifically told him not to be loud on the train.

So, we both spoke softer than usual.

Many people were louder than us, but this woman didn’t say a word to anyone else, only glaring at my son and me.

I felt uneasy.

But when you’re out alone, especially with such a young child, it’s not worth getting into an argument. It wouldn’t be good for Leo.

I softly comforted my son.

“Why don’t you try to sleep for a bit?”

Leo covered his mouth, his eyes red, and shook his head.

“I can’t stop thinking about Daddy. I’m still so sad.”

Both of us were deliberately lowering our voices, almost whispering, so quietly you’d barely hear us if you weren’t actively listening.

Suddenly, the woman in front flared up again.

“Are you kidding me? Does this mom ever shut up?!”

She walked over directly, stood next to our row of seats, and viciously kicked my chair.

“Try making another sound, I dare you!”

“Mommy, I’m scared!”

Leo was so startled by her action that he started to wail.

I hugged Leo and couldn’t help but retort:

“Miss, we weren’t making noise.”

“We’ve been speaking very softly.”

The woman screamed, craning her neck:

“This isn’t noisy?! He’s crying loud enough to make my head explode!”

“You scared him, the child is still young—”

“Young, my foot! No matter how little he is, he’s not my kid. Who’s obligated to put up with him?!”

“Attendant! Attendant!”

Just then, a train attendant appeared at the end of the car. The woman loudly called her over.

“This brat won’t stop crying! Do something about him!”