11
“Seraphina!” she shrieked hysterically. “Why?! Why do you have everything and I have nothing?!”
<
The police dragged her out, but she kept screaming wildly.
“You just wait! Even if I’m in jail, Julian will never love you! His heart will always only be for me!”
The door closed.
The world went quiet.
My father walked over, looking as though he had experienced ten times the pain. He gently patted my shoulder, “My precious daughter, it’s Dad’s fault for not protecting you well enough…”
I stood up and hugged my father. “After Mom left, you had to be both a mother and a father… Dad, you took such good
care of me!”
Atticus came downstairs, holding a stack of reports.
“Your health indicators are improving,” he said. “In about three more months, they should be completely stable.”
I nodded gently, but my father walked over, took the reports, and burst into hearty laughter, flipping through them repeatedly, regardless of whether he understood them or not, his mustache twitching with mirth.
Two weeks later, I went to the prison to see Julian one last time. He had wasted away, reduced to skin and bones. Seeing
me, his voice trembled with excitement.
“Seraphina! You’re willing to see me!”
“You, you still care about me, don’t you! Otherwise, why would you come to see me?” His eyes were filled with hope.
I looked at him coldly.
“Julian, I came to confirm an answer.”
“What answer?”
“To confirm that I truly feel nothing for you anymore.”
His face instantly turned ashen.
“Impossible…”
I linked my arm through Atticus’s. “Now I’m completely at ease.”
Three months later, I was pregnant. The moment I received the test report, I cried. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. Atticus nervously asked if I was feeling unwell.
“I… I can actually be a mother,” I sobbed. “I thought I’d never be able to…”
Atticus gently hugged me, his voice slightly choked. “Our baby will be very healthy.”
My pregnancy went smoothly. Atticus prepared nutritious meals for me every day and personally monitored all my vital signs. My father treated me like precious cargo, terrified I’d trip or bump into anything.
“Should we hire a world–class obstetrician?” my father asked anxiously
The day my child was born, I was in excruciating pain. But the moment I heard the baby’s cry, all the pain vanished.
“It’s a boy,” the nurse sald, “Very healthy.”
I took my child, looking at his tiny red face, my heart melting. Atticus leaned in, tears in his eyes, and gently kissed my forehead, “You worked so hard,”
A year later today, I held my son, basking in the sun in the garden. The little guy could already say “Mama” and “Papa,” and giggled whenever he saw Atticus. My father officially handed over the company for Atticus and me to manage.
“Anyway, I’m old now, it’s time to enjoy retirement,” my father said.
But he still came every day to see his grandson, making the little guy burst into laughter.
“Mama,” my son called out sweetly.
“Hmm?”
“That uncle is here again.”
I looked up and saw Julian, standing by the garden wall, gazing blankly towards us. He was skin and bones, and though still a young man, his hair had turned completely white. I hugged my son tightly and turned to go inside.
“Mama, why is that uncle always crying?” my son asked curiously.
“Because he did bad things, so he’s very regretful.”
“Then if he says sorry, can you forgive him?”
I shook my head. “Some mistakes, apologies are useless for.”
My son nodded, seemingly understanding.
As the sun set, Atticus and I sat in the living room, watching our son play with toys on the rug. This, I thought, is what happiness looks like. Simple, peaceful, yet infinitely precious.
