Chapter 9
After George repeatedly sided with Olivia, my heart turned to stone, and I treated him as if he were no longer my child.
But the father and son didn’t share that sentiment.
They tried to barge into the tranquil life I had so painstakingly rebuilt, attempting to rekindle the love I had long since exhausted for them.
Álexander sent George to Daisy’s kindergarten.
Every time I went to pick up Daisy, it was either George or the pair of them trailing behind me.
They maintained a distance from me, not too
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close, not too far.
It wasn’t that they didn’t want to approach and talk; I simply never gave them the chance.
However, being in the same kindergarten made contact inevitable.
At the end of the term, the school organized an outdoor camping trip, where parents prepared a variety of bento boxes to have picnics with their children.
This was Daisy’s first time participating in such an activity.
I woke up early to prepare, making sushi, bear–shaped cookies, and tangy homemade drinks.
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During the picnic, Daisy exchanged snacks with the other children, unexpectedly receiving unanimous praise.
“Daisy’s mom is amazing, the bread she made is even better than store–bought!”
“Daisy is so lucky.”
“Daisy, your mom is so gorgeous, my uncle is handsome and he’s single…”
A group of children gathered around Daisy, munching on bread, and chattered endlessly.
“That’s my mom!” George shouted with his hands on his hips.
The children didn’t believe him and continued to surround Daisy.
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“George is a liar.”
“Daisy’s mom doesn’t like him, she doesn’t even want to talk to him.”
“Yeah, we have cookies, but he doesn’t.”
With a grieved expression, George approached me and mumbled, “Mom, I want to eat the cookies you made.”
I gazed at him indifferently, noticing Alexander’s eyes on us from a distance.
“These are prepared for Daisy, there’s no share for you. Besides, don’t you only like fries and burgers?”
Suddenly, George’s eyes shifted, guiltily
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avoiding my gaze.
I had made these for him many times, and every time they were disdained.
He once threw the snacks I made in the trash can right in front of me, happily eating the burgers Olivia bought.
“I want to eat what Aunty Olivia buys, what you make isn’t even edible.”
His words are etched in my memory, as if it – happened just yesterday.
I packed up and walked out of the kindergarten with Daisy.
Alexander and George, a big and a small figure, stood at the gate; upon seeing us, they
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immediately approached.
“Mom.”
“Joy.”
The father and son called out to me in unison.
“Joy, today’s my birthday,” Alexander’s eyes sparked with hope.
“Oh, happy birthday,” I casually replied.
Alexander’s momentary dejection darkened his eyes as he softly said:
“Joy, I was wrong before, always deliberately overlooking your kindness.
“I see it all now, look, the cuff–links you gave me
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two years ago, I’m wearing them.
“And the tie, it’s the birthday gift you gave me last year.”
I followed his voice and examined his attire.
It must have been quite an exertion for him to dig out those old gifts.
After all, once given, I never saw him use them; they’ve been gathering dust in the storage
room.
“If you don’t like them, just throw them away, it’s your money that bought them anyway,” I shrugged indifferently.
A flash of hurt crossed Alexander’s eyes.
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He pleaded with me in a low voice, “Can you have dinner with us tonight, for my birthday, please?”
“Mom, please, have a meal with Geordie,” George added, his voice small and beseeching.
I wasn’t planning to go, but Daisy suddenly spoke up:
“Mom, let’s go.”
She winked at me with a sly smile.
I looked at her, unsure of her mischievous intentions, but nodded in agreement.
The father and son were overjoyed and took us to the restaurant where they had previously stood us up.
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They ordered a table full of familiar dishes.
I glanced over and put down my chopsticks; they were all common dishes from our home table, all their favorites.
“Mom, try this, it’s your favorite, chicken stewed with mushrooms.”
George put some food on my plate, his gaze seeking favor.
The next moment, Daisy took the food from my bowl.
George glared at her, wanting to get angry but refraining because I was there.
“Don’t you know mom’s allergic to
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mushrooms?” Daisy’s lips straightened, her head tilted as she questioned him.
