Chapter 4

Lucas's voice suddenly came from behind me. He asked, "You're just going to leave our son behind?"

Honestly, if Lucas hadn't brought it up, I'd almost forgotten I even had a kid.

My son, Shawn Sterling, was born premature, and Lucas sent him abroad for care the moment he came into this world.

We were constantly at each other's throats back then.

The doctors said I was depressed, my emotions were all over the place, and not fit to raise a child.

So Lucas sent Shawn away, not even letting me take a look at him.

Lucas never loved me, but he did care about Shawn. He just wanted to protect him from getting hurt.

No matter how much I pleaded, Lucas never let me see Shawn.

Lucas cut me out of Shawn's life, making sure he grew up without a mother, so he'd never know what he was missing.

He must have wanted a divorce a long time ago.

I was fooling myself, pretending not to notice his indifference.

I brushed aside all the painful truths, just wishing we could last forever.

People got trapped by the beautiful moments of their youth, letting those memories haunt them for a lifetime.

But they never realized that chasing after what was already lost was meaningless.

I always thought there'd be plenty of time.

But now, there was no "someday" anymore. Guess I would never get to see Shawn.

I stayed quiet for a long time, then finally let out a deep breath. I said, "Just take him. He's yours. I never even got to see him, so what does it matter?"

Lucas said, "Hannah, you're not fit to be a mother."

I nodded and said, "You're right, I'm not. Didn't you always call me cruel? Hope you actually know how to love a kid.

"I'll pick up the divorce certificate when the money's in my account."

With that, I walked out of the café.

The sunlight outside was so harsh that it made my eyes ache and water. I squinted, trying to hold back the tears.

At the hospital, my dad was actually in decent spirits today.

But after being stuck in bed for so many years, he'd grown so thin and frail.

I showed up at his hospital room with lunch.

When he saw me, he frowned and asked, "Why have you lost so much weight? You look pale. Haven't you been eating properly?"

Suddenly, my throat tightened, and I nearly lost it.

Only my dad could see right through me like that.

I kept my head down, setting out the food, and after a moment, managed a weak smile. I said, "I'm fine, Dad. Just trying to lose a little weight lately."

His face turned stern as he scoffed, "Why are you even worrying about losing weight? Your health is what matters. I'm getting weaker every day, and all I want is for you to be okay.

"Then even if I pass away, I'll have peace of mind."

My throat tightened, and I almost lost control. I said, "Dad, what are you talking about? I'm really fine. Please, just eat. I'll be right back. I need to use the restroom."

I rushed out of the hospital room, found a deserted spot, and just broke down, crying my heart out.

My dad was the only one who truly loved me.

But I couldn't even let him live his last years in peace, couldn't even be there for him till the end.

I couldn't imagine how much it would destroy him, outliving his own child.

The thought alone was suffocating. Unbearable.

I couldn't let my dad know.

I had to give him a version I could live with.

*****

Lucas was in such a rush. The money landed in my account that afternoon.

I stared at all those digits in the message, then got up to pay the hospital bill.

That evening, I went back to pack up my things from what I'd thought was my home: Lucas's house, never really mine.

I didn't have much, and I didn't plan on taking much.

Paintings, clothes, crafts, gifts, photos—everything Lucas and I made together, everything that proved we existed.

Seeing it all now, our whole life together felt like a bad joke I was finally in on.

I piled up all my unwanted things in an open patch of the yard.

Then I lit it all up and watched the flames swallow every last piece.

Through the flickering flames, I caught sight of Lucas.

He looked absolutely furious, but just stood there at the doorway, frozen in place.

Our eyes locked through the blaze, neither of us willing to look away.

I turned and walked straight over to the garden.

I grabbed a shovel and ripped out every single vegetable I'd ever planted.

Lucas had a sensitive stomach, so I grew everything organic: no pesticides, just what he needed. I'd cook for him, deliver to his office if he worked late.

I loved him like that once. Now, I was desperate to burn every trace of him.