Chapter 2

"Alright, go on," Arianna said, handing the child over and patting Sharon's hand. "Sharon, you've had it tough. Raising a kid by yourself isn't easy."

"It's really not hard at all, Mrs. Sinclair,," Sharon replied with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Jack's my son. No matter how hard it gets, it's all worth it for him."

Sharon carried Jack upstairs. As she passed by me, she paused for a second.

She looked down at me, her voice so soft that only the two of us could hear. "Rosalind, you don't look so good. Maybe you should head upstairs and get some rest?

"The first room on the left. It used to be yours and Andrew's, but now... it's a children's room."

She flashed me a gentle smile, then walked off with Jack in her arms.

Andrew appeared by my side without me noticing. He leaned down and asked, "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing," I replied.

He frowned, glanced upstairs, then looked at me. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself.

Just then, Arianna spoke up again. "Andrew, did you talk to her about Jack's guardianship transfer?"

"Yeah, I did," Andrew replied.

"So, how did she react?" Arianna asked.

Andrew glanced at me. "Rosalind doesn't mind."

Arianna snorted. "What could she possibly say about it? It's been three years and still no sign of a baby. The Sinclair family can't end here.

"Sharon's being really generous to have a child for the family. Anyone else wouldn't agree to do it without any recognition or status."

"That's enough!" Andrew suddenly stood up, and everyone in the living room froze.

He took a deep breath, turned to me, and his voice softened. "Rosalind, let's go home."

He took my hand and led me toward the door. As we reached it, I glanced back.

I hadn't noticed when Sharon came downstairs. She was standing at the landing, holding Jack in her arms.

She wasn't looking at Andrew; her gaze was locked on me, and she gave me a subtle, knowing smile.

I knew that look all too well.

Three years ago, when she first came to our house as Andrew's honorary sister, Sharon smiled at me like that when Andrew put some food on her plate.

Back then, I really believed they were siblings.

But then she'd call Andrew to pick her up whenever she got drunk, drag him along for shopping trips, and always have him order food for her.

That was when I started to sense something wasn't right. Looking back now, it was only a matter of time before things ended up like this.

Once we stepped out of the old house, Andrew never let go of my hand.

When we got in the car, he didn't start the engine right away. He slumped over the wheel, silent for a long while.

"I'm sorry," Andrew said, his voice muffled. "You know my mom. She's got a sharp tongue, but she doesn't mean any harm."

I leaned against the car window, watching the old house shrink in the rearview mirror.

Andrew sat up and turned to me, his eyes a little red. "I'll handle things with Sharon. Rosalind, you're the one I've let down the most in my life.

"After our son passed away, I... I was devastated too, but I just didn't know how to face you.

"hat happened with Sharon was me being a jerk, but Jack is innocent. Can you give Jack a chance? And maybe give me one, too?"

His tears started to fall.

A thirty-seven-year-old man, crying in front of me like he did the day our son passed away.

I reached out my hand and wiped the tears from his face.

Andrew paused for a moment, then gripped my hand tightly and pressed it to his cheek, as if he didn't want to let go. "Thank you, Rosalind. Thank you."

I gave him a small smile and stayed silent.

The car pulled out of the old house's alley and turned onto the main road.

His phone, sitting screen-up in the cup holder, lit up with a text message.

I saw it. It was from Sharon, a single line: [Has she left? Jack says he misses his dad. When are you coming back?]

The message had come through two minutes ago.

I stayed silent and shifted my gaze out the window.

The streetlights slipped by one after another, like days quietly ticking away in a countdown.

When we pulled into the underground parking lot, Andrew paused with the key in his hand.

Andrew picked up his phone, lit up the screen, and stared at the message for a couple of seconds.

Then, the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

It was so faint, so fleeting that I wouldn't have caught it if I hadn't been watching him the whole time.

Andrew slipped his phone into his pocket, and when he turned to me, his face was wiped clean of any emotion. "Let's go home," he said.

When we got home, Andrew spent over an hour in the kitchen.

"Here, eat some more," he said, serving me a piece of steak. "You've lost so much weight."

I kept my head down, eating quietly, while Andrew sat across from me, barely touching his food.

Halfway through dinner, his phone rang. He took a quick look at the screen and hit ignore.