Chapter 3

My family was useless, and I couldn't stand the thought of Oliver ending up in an orphanage, so I spent all night reaching out, trying to find someone willing to adopt him.

The first people I contacted were an engaged couple from a decent family, about to get married.

No matter how much it hurt, this was the best I could do for Oliver right now.

I glanced at Oliver, happily playing with the other kids, then made my way to the nearby café.

I scanned the room, and my gaze landed on the back of the man at table three.

He was in a dark gray uniform, his head turned slightly down, fingers idly spinning the military watch on his wrist.

I hurried over. "Excuse me, I'm..."

But the instant our eyes met, I went rigid.

James looked just as shocked. He glanced at the message from the agency on his phone, then frowned. "You're Ms. Summers, the one putting your child up for adoption?"

I snapped out of it, still in shock that he was the one looking to adopt. I blurted out, "No, you must have me confused with someone else. I'm just here to meet a friend."

He looked at me suspiciously, but didn't push it.

The atmosphere instantly turned awkward.

I glanced at his calm face and couldn't help asking, "Aren't you about to get married? Why would you want to adopt a kid?"

His gaze softened. "My fiancée's health isn't great. She's not strong enough for pregnancy, so we decided to adopt."

Hearing that, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for his fiancée, but even more overwhelming was the ache and emptiness that washed over me.

I pretended to check my phone, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm going to find my friend. Bye."

With that, I turned and hurried out.

Once I was outside, I texted the agency worker: [Sorry, I've thought it over. I still want to find a stable, married family for my child.]

After I hit send, I realized my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone.

I tilted my head back, took a deep breath, and forced down the sting in my eyes before heading back to the kids' play area.

Over the next few days, my health took a nosedive.

No matter how strong the meds were, the pain in my bones never eased up, and my nosebleeds got worse and worse. I knew I was running out of time.

I reached out to another adoptive family for Oliver.

This time, it was an older couple, both retired from the military. Their only son had died in the line of duty, and the wife was injured and couldn't have children anymore, so they finally decided to adopt.

I stuffed Oliver's clothes, his stuffed animals, and the card James gave me all into the suitcase.

Once we got in the taxi, Oliver tilted his head, curious. "Mommy, where are we going?"

Even before the goodbye came, my eyes were already red with tears.

I gently stroked his little face, my heart aching. "We're going somewhere where lots of people will love you, Oliver."

Half an hour later, the taxi pulled up in front of a military residential compound.

The adoptive parents, Richard Evans and Linda Evans, were already waiting at the gate. They looked so gentle, and when they saw Oliver, their eyes were full of love and care.

I handed them the suitcase, my voice was hoarse. "The rabbit plushie inside is the one Oliver's had since he was a baby. He might need some time to adjust, so please take good care of him.

"I'm entrusting Oliver to you from now on."

With that, I bowed deeply to them.

Richard and Linda quickly reassured me, "Ms. Summers, don't worry. We'll love Oliver like he's our own son."

Tears instantly blurred my vision.

I looked down at Oliver's innocent face, my heart twisting with pain.

But I forced a smile, crouched down, and ruffled his hair. "Oliver, you have to listen to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, okay? Mommy has to go on a long business trip, but when I come back, I'll bring you lots of yummy treats and fun toys."

Oliver was innocent and clueless, but he always picked up on my moods.

He must've sensed something was off, because he suddenly grabbed my hand in a panic and cried out, "No, I just want Mommy!"

Hearing that, my tears threatened to spill over.

"Hey, sweetheart, Mommy will be back really soon, okay?" I said softly.

As I spoke, I gently brushed his little nose. "You love playing hide-and-seek with Mommy, don't you? Now Mommy's going to hide, so close your eyes and count to twenty before you peek."

Oliver looked a little confused, but he still closed his eyes and started counting, "One, two, three..."

I stood up, nodded to Richard and Linda, took a few steps back, and then spun around.

Tears burst out all at once, but I didn't dare stop walking, didn't dare look back.

I knew if I paused or turned around, the pain of leaving Oliver would freeze me in place.

The wind slashed at my throat like a hot knife, my lungs burning as if they might explode. I had to steady myself against the wall, gasping for air.

Before I could even catch my breath from the pain of saying goodbye, I saw James coming out of the flower shop ahead, a bouquet of roses in his hands.

He handed the flowers to the woman standing next to him, her face radiant and lively, and the two of them exchanged a smile.

The moment was so perfect, it felt like time itself had frozen.

I just stood there in a daze, watching until their figures faded from my tear-blurred vision.

As the last traces of sunlight disappeared into the night, I drifted back to my apartment, lost and numb.

I was back in that cramped, run-down apartment.

The moment I pushed the door open, my eyes instinctively went to the little bay window in the corner.

That was Oliver's favorite spot. He'd always sit there, quietly flipping through his picture books.

Every time I came home, he'd run over with a big smile, hug my leg, and call out, "Mommy!" in that sweet little voice.

There was still half a crayon on the table. Last night, Oliver had gripped it tight, scrawling in his messy little handwriting: [I love you, Mommy.]

But now, the whole place was so empty, it felt like even the silence was echoing.

I slumped down like a ghost, numb and empty, and fished two photos out of the drawer.

One was of me and Oliver, the other was an old solo shot of James.

I pieced the two photos together, imagining it was a real family portrait.

Tears landed silently on the photo.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from James: [The wedding will be held at the military guest house. I hope you can bring your son.]

With my eyes still red from crying, I stared at the short message, wiped away my tears, and replied, [Okay, I understand.]

He didn't reply, like he was just going through the motions.

The bone pain hit right on schedule, washing over me like a relentless tide, seeping into every crevice of my bones.

I curled up in bed, biting my lip until it bled, my clothes drenched in cold sweat.

After more than twenty years of living, it was the first time I truly felt how painful it could be just to exist.

There was a time when I couldn't let go, when I had people I cared about. But now, everyone I ever cared for had found their own happiness.

Sooner or later, I'd fade away from their memories.

Tears slid down the corners of my eyes as I mustered the last of my strength to sit up and crawl onto the windowsill.

Then, I jumped, plunging straight down.