Chapter 3

The night I came home, she quietly made me a bowl of soup, serving it still steaming.

"To warm your stomach."

"You've always been like this since you were little, your stomach gets upset if you get hungry."

I took a sip, saying nothing.

She sat opposite me, watching me. "Were they good to you?"

I nodded.

"So... do you still want to go back?"

I looked up at her.

"Mom, I'm not going back."

"I'm afraid if I leave, you won't eat, you won't sleep, you won't even go to the doctor."

She blinked, then chuckled. "Don't be silly. Mom's perfectly fine."

"The doctor just said it's bronchitis. A couple of pills and I'll be fine."

I stared at the dark circles under her eyes, and the fever patch discreetly stuck to her hand. My chest tightened.

I asked her, "How long have you been going to the hospital?"

She said, "Just a couple of days. It's nothing serious."

"Last month, during my company health check, they said I had some inflammation and told me to monitor it."

"You weren't here, and I didn't want to bother you. I was afraid they'd laugh at you over there."

My eyes immediately welled up.

"You were afraid I'd be embarrassed?"

"After all this time, do you really think I'm grown up enough to be embarrassed by you?"

She lowered her head, her eyes red-rimmed:

"I just thought... you finally had a good place... I couldn't let anyone look down on you."

"You wear nice shoes, I wear worn-out clothes. If you took me out... people would laugh at how pathetic your mom is."

I covered my face with my hand, tears streaming down between my fingers.

"Mom, do you know? In that so-called 'home,' no one dared to look me in the eye and say they loved me."

"They called you a nanny. I didn't fight them. I only did one thing—I left."

"I came back."

"You can't get worse."

"If anything happens to you, I'll never have a mom again."