Chapter 1

Today was my birthday.

My parents called, pressing me about when I was finally going to get divorced, because my sister was seven months pregnant already and they said she couldn't wait any longer.

My brother texted me and wished me an early grave, calling me a venomous woman.

Even my five-year-old son, copying the way adults talk, asked, "Mom, did you steal Aunt's spot?"

Staring at my five-year-old son—the one I'd spent two days and nights fighting to bring into this world—I could see that distant, aloof look in his eyes, just like his father.

That was when I finally lost all hope.

After the divorce, I changed every bit of my contact information and vanished from their lives for good.

Just like that, three years slipped by.

Honestly, I'd been doing just fine.

Back when I had nowhere else to turn, the headmistress of the orphanage, Janessa Avila, called me up. She told me she was about to retire and head back to her hometown to enjoy her golden years, then asked if I wanted to come along.

She knew I was divorced and didn't have anywhere to go.

I agreed.

So I went with her to this quiet little mountain village.

It was nothing like the big city. Things were so affordable here, and I could live comfortably on just a few hundred dollars a month.

I started growing vegetables and raising chickens myself.

Janessa taught me all kinds of things, just like it was back then.

If I could turn back the clock, I'd never have gone back to my birth family.

No matter how hard things got at the orphanage, at least I didn't have to live as a pitiful stray, always anxious, always feeling like an outsider.

But I was only six back then, just a kid desperate to be with my biological parents.

As I looked back now, none of my choices were the right ones.

Once I made a mistake, every step after was wrong.

I guessed this was what I got.

One night, I heard something moving around at the courtyard gate.

It sounded like something was crawling out there in the dark.

It was probably just one of those strays again. Usually, when that happened, I'd leave a bit of leftovers by the gate for them.

But tonight, the noise felt different. My heart skipped a beat—I braced myself and cracked open the door, peeking through the gap.

It was a kid, so skinny that he looked like he hadn't eaten in days.

As soon as he saw me open the door, he shot off in a panic, but barely made it a few steps before tripping and falling. He tumbled and scrambled, looking absolutely miserable.

I hurried over and saw his leg was hurt. His hair was filthy and long, and it was already late autumn, but he was still wearing tattered, dirty summer clothes.

The boy dropped to his knees and kowtowed, begging for mercy like it was second nature to him.

I hurried to stop him, gently lifting him onto his feet. Trying to sound reassuring, I asked, "Where are your parents? Let me help you get home."

But the boy only looked at me in fear, his face twisting as he let out panicked, broken "ahh, ahh" sounds—no words, just pure terror.

That was when I realized—he couldn't speak. He was mute. For a moment, my heart ached for him.

Janessa was awake too, and just one glance at the scene had her muttering, "Abandoned for sure." Years of looking after kids, she could spot it a mile away.

Sure enough, the next day, I took the boy to see the village chief.

The village chief shrugged, "Yeah, he's an orphan. Been surviving out here all alone for a couple of years now."

I felt a lump in my throat.

Janessa let out a sigh and gently pulled me away.

The little boy limped after us, his steps unsteady.

I looked back at him and met his gaze—timid, sensitive, and quietly desperate to win a scrap of kindness.

In that moment, it felt like I was looking right at my younger self.

I turned to Janessa and said, "I want to adopt him."

Janessa seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. Before long, she had everything sorted out for me—all the adoption paperwork was taken care of.

I named the boy Paxander.

I hoped he'd have a safe and healthy future.

I wasn't a fan of my family name, so I gave him Janessa's instead—his full name was Paxander Avila.

We called him Pax for short.

He was the spitting image of my six-year-old self—a lost kid, craving safety.

The moment he learned he finally had a home, his eyes sparkled, full of wonder and excitement. But after we brought him back, he tiptoed around, careful with everything he did—even at dinner, he'd nibble at his food, afraid any little mistake would get him kicked out, or that we might not want him after all.

It took me half a year before Paxander could truly relax and believe this was really his forever home.

His leg was a real mess, so I took him all over town, searching for a decent traditional medicine doctor who might help.

He hadn't been born mute—a bad illness had stolen his voice from him.

He was like a doll, broken and scattered into pieces, barely holding together.

But I gathered those pieces, one by one, and patched him up until he became a healthy, beautiful child once more.

Finally, on New Year's, he called me "Mom" for the very first time.

I was over the moon.

Just as the three of us were raising our glasses to toast the New Year, uninvited guests barged in, wrecking all our peace and joy in an instant.

My parents and my brother had somehow managed to show up out of nowhere.

They hammered on the door, yelling and making a ruckus like they were here to collect some overdue debt.

Janessa had been smiling just a second ago, but her face turned cold in an instant. She grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter, hid it behind her back, and opened the door before I could even react.

When they saw it was Janessa who opened the door, my parents froze, their arrogance vanishing in a heartbeat.

Back when they showed up at the orphanage to bring me home, Janessa had mixed feelings—she was happy for me, but worried too. She knew I'd been abandoned, and really hoped my parents were truly remorseful and would treat me right this time.

She wished they'd sincerely regretted what happened and would finally give me a caring home.