The little boy had clung to my hand, his bright eyes smiling, unaware he'd never see his mother again.
Since he turned one, he was poisoned three times, bitten by a snake, suffered broken ribs in a car accident, and nearly died from an allergy.
I protected him through endless brushes with death; how could I ruin his future?
My father stormed out. When Nathan returned, he found me sitting on the floor, tears falling endlessly.
He quietly picked me up, set me on the sofa, and handed me a towel to wipe my face.
He brought lemonade, held me close, and fed me spoon by spoon.
For a moment, it felt like eighteen years ago, when we truly cared for each other.
Back then, my mother had just died, and my father immediately married his mistress.
I was forced to kneel before her and call her "Mother," hiding in the attic, sobbing alone.
Nathan embraced me, gently wiping my tears and giving me water.
He held me, telling me he was there and asking me to believe in him.
A thirteen-year-old boy kneeling before his father, begging for my safety, using cooperation to prove my worth.
How could I not love such a boy?
The brief warmth shattered with a long sigh.