Chapter 4 — Today, I’m Done Waiting

"Ever since my little sister passed away, Mother hasn't liked children anymore."

Manh Hoa's expression shifted slightly.

"When did Mother say such a thing?"

"She only told me that seeing children might remind me of my sister, and that she needed peace and quiet to recover."

"That is merely a misunderstanding on his part."

Jia Moc lowered his head. His small shoulders drooped, as though he were the one who had committed a grave error. I left my seat and squatted down in front of him. This time, I did not reach out to embrace the boy.

"Jia Moc, look at Mother."

The boy slowly raised his eyes.

"Mother does not hate children at all."

"Nor do I ever want to abandon you."

"Your sister could not stay because she was simply too small, unable to continue growing."

"That was never your fault, nor was it because I no longer wanted her."

The edges of the boy's eyes instantly turned red.

"Then why won't Mother come home?"

"Because there are certain issues between your father and me."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"Will Father and Mother be able to be good again?"

I did not answer immediately. Manh Hoa frowned.

"Peaceful Years, he is only four years old. Why are you discussing these matters with him?"

"Are we to continue letting the child believe that he and his sister were the cause of my torment?"

"I did not mean it that way."

"Yet the child has already begun to think so."

Manh Hoa fell silent. Jia Moc reached out a cautious hand and gently touched the hem of my sleeve.

"Mother, if I am very good, will you come back?"

A sudden, sharp sting flared in the bridge of my nose, and I grasped the child's tiny hand.

"Jia Moc."

"You do not need to trade your obedience to keep your parents by your side."

"Mother will always be your mother."

"Even if we live in different places, I will never forsake you."

The boy looked at me with a gaze that hovered between understanding and confusion. The tears he had been holding back finally spilled over. I pulled him into my arms. At first, his little body was stiff and rigid, but a few seconds later, he wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, holding on with all his might.

"Mother."

"I did not cause my sister's death."

"I truly did not."

I closed my eyes. "That was never your fault." Manh Hoa sat across from us, her expression far from pleasant. Only after Jia Moc's emotions had settled did she finally speak.

"Let him stay here tonight."

"That bookstore of yours has been uninhabited for five years; how is it suitable for a child?"

"I will clean it thoroughly."

"We will talk after you have finished cleaning."

"I will come to fetch him tomorrow."

"Peaceful Years." She set down her chopsticks. "You can barely take care of yourself at the moment."

"I cannot rest easy letting Jia Moc go with you."

I looked at her.

"I am his mother."

"No one is saying you are not."

"However, the most important thing for you right now is to recover your health."

"Jia Moc bears the family name; this household will not allow him to suffer any wrongs."

Jia Moc bore the family name. In her words, the boy seemed to be first and foremost a descendant of the household, and only secondarily the child I had carried in my womb for ten months and brought into the world. I understood the heavy weight behind her words.

"Very well." I did not press the argument further. "I will let him stay here tonight."

Manh Hoa's expression softened slightly, undoubtedly believing that I had finally come to my senses. I wiped the remaining tears from Jia Moc's face, promising that I would come to pick him up from school by tomorrow afternoon. When I stepped out of the main house, the boy escorted me all the way to the threshold, his small hand clutching the edge of my coat.

"Mother."

"Hmm?"

"Will you truly come tomorrow?"

"Truly."

"You won't decide not to come just because I wasn't good enough, right?"

"Never."

Only then did the boy loosen his grip. As I stepped out into the courtyard, my phone chimed with a new message from Wen Huyen. He informed me that his lawyer had been in touch and that he would not sign the divorce agreement. At the bottom was a final sentence:

"Peaceful Years, do not push things to a point where they can no longer be mended."

I stared at the screen for a long time before tapping out four words in reply: "It is already too late." The next day, I hired workers to clean the bookstore. The water and electricity were inspected, and the old sofa on the second floor was hauled away. I ordered a folding bed for myself and purchased a child's bed to place by the window. Jia Moc had always favored the color blue, so I selected a set of blue sheets.