Chapter 3
After returning to my hometown, I opened a small restaurant to make a living.
Since it was just me running the place, I limited the number of customers I could serve. Gradually, to my surprise, it gained popularity and became an internet–famous restaurant among tourists.
At eighteen, Amara Vaughan dreamed of becoming a self–made millionaire, studying computer science for the promise of easy
money.
At twenty–eight, Amara Vaughan only wanted to stay in this small restaurant, barely a hundred square meters, and quietly live out the rest of her life.
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Since George Wells transferred here, he was sent to my restaurant every day after school by the driver.
He was a smart child, and on the first day we reunited, he only showed his willfulness
once.
Daniel Wells seldom appeared; most of the time, the person accompanying George was the driver.
I never understood how the Wells family thought. They valued George Wells so much, yet they left him alone in this remote town without a second thought.
I didn’t send him away.
He was the only remaining family member I had, blood–related.
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I had once stayed awake for three days and nights to care for him when he had a high fever.
I had also suffered countless cuts on my hands while making him the toy he wanted, my hands bloody and raw.
I admit, at the core, everyone is selfish. When I did these things for him, I never expected anything in return. But after all I had done, what I received in return was his disdain, his aversion, and his disgust. It did hurt, I won’t lie.
When he was little, he was clingy to me.
He had to sleep with me beside him, and when we went out, I had to carry him.
I relied on his dependence on me to endure the countless glares and grievances I
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suffered in the Wells family.
But as he grew, as he developed his own awareness, learned to walk, and say “no,” he slowly stopped liking me.
Because I would stop him when he ate too many sweets, and I would discipline him seriously when he acted spoiled…
Children don’t know good from evil; all they know is that I often restricted him, so naturally, he didn’t want to get close to me anymore.
Until that day, when Daniel Wells took him out to play, and after returning home, George Wells, with all the audacity in the world, said:
“I don’t want you to be my mom anymore. I want Aunt Esme Bellamy to be my mom.”
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“You’re not worthy to be my mom! Get out! This is my house!”
Sarah had asked me privately if she could stop being friends with George Wells because she didn’t like him.
“Of course, you can,” I said indifferently, though I was a bit curious. “Why don’t you like him?”
Sarah was a big–hearted child. She rarely expressed dislike for anyone directly, most of the time she just didn’t care.
“He hurt you,” Sarah said flatly, her voice unshaken. “Every time you see him, you’re upset.”
I froze.
“He knows it makes you sad, yet he keeps
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showing up, Sarah continued, lowering her head a little, looking a bit downcast. “Can I hit him?”
“I can’t take on the adult, but I can beat George Wells, Sarah thought for a moment. “Mom, can you send me to learn martial arts?”
“I’ll get really strong, Mom. I’ll protect you.”
I agreed to let Sarah take martial arts classes.
She took it very seriously, and her teacher said Sarah could endure more than many older kids.
I remembered Daniel Wells once mocking me, pointing a finger at my face and saying, “A woman like you, who would ever love you?”
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No, Daniel Wells.
Grandmother loved me. Sarah loved me.
And now, I loved myself.
Daniel Wells would occasionally show up, always looking tired from travel. He would sit at my restaurant for a while, order two dishes, and after eating, he would pick up George Wells to take him home.
The neighbors would ask if Daniel Wells was courting me.
They didn’t know Daniel Wells was my ex–husband; they only knew that a rich bachelor was pursuing a divorced woman with a child in her middle years.
I would always smile and deny it.
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“He’s not blind, why would he be interested in me? He’s here to pick up the child, not to pursue me.”
If this had happened before, I would have wondered what Daniel Wells‘ actions really meant, what his intentions were.
But now, I didn’t have a shred of curiosity about him.
Whether he came or left, it didn’t matter to
- me.
I occasionally wonder when George Wells will tire of this childish game of “winning his mother’s affection.”
He had already been in this small town, which lacked an aquarium, an amusement park, or a big shopping mall, for nearly three
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months.
Perhaps it’s the inherent flaw in human nature, that “the unattainable seems precious” even children aren’t exempt. The more indifferent I became to him, the more he clung to me.
He often wore a lonely expression.
When I gently held Sarah’s hand.
When I bent down to adjust Sarah’s skirt.
When I secretly brought out the little sweets I’d specially prepared for Sarah from the kitchen.
But every time I looked at him, he’d shake off his loneliness and flash me a sweet smile.
People’s preferences are always influenced
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by their emotions. When I cared for this child, just a small touch, a gentle bump, would leave me feeling uneasy for a long time.
But now, even though I knew he was pretending to be strong, I felt nothing. I event found myself wondering why he hadn’t left yet. His presence here, truly, was such a bother.
I didn’t hate him. I just… no longer loved him.
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Chapter 4
