Chapter 14%
My mother took down the only family photo in the house that had me in it. She held it tightly against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
Memories of the past flooded her mind–the moment they brought me back to the Griffith’s manor. I had stood at the doorstep hesitantly, unsure of whether I truly belonged. At first, I had cautiously tried to act spoiled, testing the waters by telling them I wanted to travel. I had spent my whole life in the orphanage and had never seen the outside world.
But at the time, my father only cared about grooming Ethan to take over the company. He was busy paving the way for Ethan, busy making all the arrangements. He had no time for me.
My mother had understood my father’s struggles, so she had cruelly refused my request. She had watched as the last trace of light in my eyes dimmed.§
She had felt a pang of guilt. But in the end, she had let my father convince her otherwise.
He had said, “Once Ethan takes over the company, everything will be fine.“}
Their son would live the life he desired. Their family of three would be as happy as before. They had planned everything meticulously -except for their son’s wishes.
Bringing him home from the orphanage, they had understood his insecurities. They had recognized his timid nature, the way he hesitated before speaking, the way his fingers trembled slightly when he was uncertain.}
But in the end, they had said nothing. They had not reassured him, had not guided him. They had simply watched as he was swallowed by the sea of suffering. Struggling to learn. Exhausting his youth.
When he had finally written a project proposal he was proud of, when he had been full of anticipation to make his mark at the shareholders‘ meeting, when he had wanted to make his parents proud–they had destroyed his last hope.}
With one car accident, they had buried his young life.
She would never forget the moment her son woke up in the hospital. The moment he learned he was permanently disabled. The despair and helplessness on his face.}
That single tear–falling onto the back of her hand, seeping into her heart like an irreversible wound.
She had felt guilt. She had felt regret. But nothing could bring her son back.
She unlocked her phone again and opened their chat. The last conversation was still from the day of the accident. Her son’s words were filled with joy, filled with hope for them.”
[Mom, I finished my proposal! I already sent it to Dad, but he hasn’t replied yet. Is he busy? Should I go to the office to bring him something to eat? He must be tired after a whole day of work.]}
[Mom, I passed by a street stall and saw a little ornament. I bought it for you! It’s really cute. I hope that when you see it, you’ll think of me.]%
[If my proposal gets selected, can I attend the event with you? I’ve never been to a grand hotel before. I really want to see it. Can I?]} The words stared back at her, the text so innocent, so full of longing, that it tore her apart.
But she had not replied to a single one.”
At that time, she had been busy following her husband’s instructions–contacting the driver who would stage the accident.
