“No!” Tyler cried out in heartbreak. “I don’t want to!”
Why did other children get to have their mothers, but he couldn’t see his? Why couldn’t he call her “Mommy” and instead had to call her “Aunt”? Why didn’t his mommy like him? He was a good boy—he really was!
His heartbreak spilled into tears as he cried, his chubby little hands rubbing his eyes, though the tears kept falling.
“No! No! I don’t want to!”
“Enough!” Sam Noah scolded sharply.
The authority in his father’s voice startled Tyler, and he dared not cry loudly anymore. But he was still upset. He sniffled and rubbed his eyes clumsily with his small hands.
Sam Noah closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his emotions. Then, with a softer tone, he said, “Stop crying. Let’s go.”
With that, he took Tyler’s hand and started to lead him forward.
Tyler knew very well that once they left, he might never see his mommy again. His little heart ached terribly, but he didn’t dare cry out loud. His father had said that real men had to be brave and that crying wouldn’t solve problems. So he suppressed his sobs, only letting out soft, muffled sniffles.
Just as they were about to get into the car, a gentle voice called out, “Tyler.”
Tyler wiped his tear-filled eyes and turned around. He saw his mommy walking quickly toward him.
“Mommy?”
He was stunned to see her and forgot the agreement with his daddy—that he was supposed to call her “Aunt” until she remembered.
Thelma had seen the little boy crying from a distance, and she quickened her steps instinctively. She crouched in front of him and pulled out a tissue to wipe away his tears.
Tyler was still in shock. A moment ago, he had been devastated, thinking he’d never see his mommy again. But now, here she was, in front of him.
Daddy had said Mommy remembered. But if she remembered, would she still get so close to him and wipe away his tears?
Mommy didn’t let him get close. Mommy didn’t like him.
So he hesitantly called out again, “Mommy?”
Thelma rolled up his sleeve and looked at the small, round scar on his arm. Her mind flashed back to the fragment of memory where he had been burned and cried out in pain. He had always been such a quiet, well-behaved, and cheerful child. For him to cry so loudly—it must have hurt terribly.
Her heart felt as though it had been pierced. Holding back her tears, she asked him, “Does it hurt?”
He shook his head blankly. “No, it doesn’t.”
His soft, childlike voice, tinged with a sob, sounded so pitiful and tugged at her heart.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn’t help but pull him into her arms, holding him tightly.
She didn’t know why she had pushed him away, why she had hurt him—even if it had been unintentional, it was still harm.
From the moment she had first seen him, she had felt a sense of closeness to him. Now she understood—he was her child.
He was her flesh and blood, connected to her by the deepest bond.
The little boy froze for a moment in her embrace, unsure of what to do. Hesitantly, he whispered in her ear, “Mommy?”
He smelled faintly of milk. He was so small, so good, so sweet—her son. How could she have ever hated him or hurt him?
She buried her face in his tiny shoulder. Her sobs started softly, then turned into gentle cries, and finally, she couldn’t hold back and broke down completely.
“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she choked out, repeating the words over and over.
The little boy rubbed his cheek against her head. His chubby hands patted her gently, trying to comfort her. “Don’t cry, Mommy.”
But hearing him say that only made her cry harder.
She thought of that day when she had burned him. He had toddled unsteadily toward her, his soft, childlike voice pleading, “Don’t cry, Mommy.”
How could she have been so cruel?
Tears glistened in Tyler’s eyes, but he held them back. He used his small hands to clumsily wipe away her tears, his movements awkward yet heartfelt.
His big, red eyes and little red nose, combined with his tear-streaked face, made him look even more pitiful, even as he tried to stay strong and comfort her.
Thelma carefully wiped the tears from his little face. Then she looked toward the man standing not far away. Sam Noah seemed lost in thought, and when their eyes met, it took him a moment to come back to himself.
For some reason, facing him made Thelma feel uneasy. She couldn’t meet his gaze directly. This man, so powerful and distant, had always been intimidating—and now even more so.
Lowering her head, she hesitated before saying, “I… I don’t remember anything from before. I don’t remember marrying you or having Tyler. Does that… bother you?”
Sam Noah: “…”
What did she mean? Why would she ask such a question?
This woman, who had never once looked at him properly, now seemed anxious, twisting her hands as she asked if he minded.
She was truly…
The heavy, oppressive expression on his face melted away like snow under the sun. His eyes brightened, and a faint smile almost broke through his features.
Still, he remained composed and dignified, as always. With a simple, calm smile, he said, “I don’t mind.”
Thelma breathed a sigh of relief and added, “Then pick me up tomorrow. I need to pack my things first.”
She wanted him to pick her up—did that mean she was willing to go back with them? Just moments ago, he had thought she’d never want anything to do with them again.
The light in his eyes grew brighter. He clenched his hands at his sides as if trying to suppress something. But his voice remained steady, without a hint of emotion. “Alright.”
