C04

His usually cold voice carried a hint of frustration. “Shannon, name any condition you want; I’ll agree to it. Just come to the hospital and take care of Mason. You know how busy I am. I can’t stay here to look after him.”

I chuckled softly. “I only have one condition: proceed with the divorce quickly. As for Mason, as your ex-wife, my only suggestion is to find him a caretaker.”

Something I said must have hit a nerve, as I heard items crashing in the background before Quincy, sounding almost deranged, demanded, “Mason is the child you carried for ten months, born after two days of labor. Are you really going to divorce me and let our son grow up in a single-parent family?”

“Oh, no,” I replied helpfully, reminding Quincy of the woman who’d been waiting for him. “Michelle has always cared about Mason and Mason has longed for you to make her his mother. As his father, you should make that wish come true.”

Quincy clenched his fists, pressing them to his forehead. “Are you really willing to hear him call someone else ‘Mom’?”

Without hesitation, I replied, “I’d be thrilled.”

Three years ago, after Michelle’s family’s overseas business went bankrupt, she returned and Quincy hired her as his personal secretary despite everyone’s objections. Last Mother’s Day, Mason ordered ninety-nine carnations for her and skipped school multiple times to have lunch with her.

In truth, they were the real family. As for me, once I accepted reality, I knew I’d have to move forward.

Quincy was still talking on the phone, sounding increasingly desperate, but I was too hungry to listen.

“If you can’t make it to the bureau by Monday, we’ll meet in court instead,” I said before hanging up and turning off my phone.

Monday came and Quincy never showed. So, I hired a lawyer to handle the divorce.

Two weeks later, on a Sunday evening, I stood in the fields with a straw hat, admiring the sunset. Smiling, I patted Cassie and said, “Your grandma’s probably got dinner ready. Let’s head back.”

Cassie happily took my hand and we walked home together, carrying freshly picked fruit. As we entered, I was about to show Grandma our harvest when I noticed her strange expression. Following her gaze, I saw an unexpected visitor in the living room.

It was Mason.

Though she hadn’t seen him in years, Grandma recognized Mason from the photos I sent her every year. Even though I’d never told her everything, this wise, elderly woman knew.

I asked her to take Cassie to the kitchen to wash the fruit and she nodded, her face sad as she gently brushed a

speck of dirt off my cheek and led the girl away.