Chapter 4

Kate's POV

Caleb took Claire home.

After she stepped inside, she huddled in the entryway, too scared to move. She looked small and helpless.

Caleb looked back at her. "Come inside. Don't just stay there."

Claire didn't move. She lowered her head and whispered, "I'm not going into a bad person's house."

Caleb took a deep breath. Then he bent down, picked her up, and set her on the couch.

"Don't move," he said.

He told the housekeeper to make Claire something to eat.

When he glanced at Claire's bony frame, he added, "Make it something easy to digest."

The housekeeper, Tessa Smith, looked at Claire, then at Caleb. She looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Caleb grew impatient. "What are you looking at?"

Tessa lowered her head. "It's nothing. You and the child look… Never mind. I'll go make the food."

Caleb's expression changed slightly, but he said nothing.

"I don't know how that woman raised a child," he grumbled. "The kid looks starved. Good thing I didn't marry someone like Kate."

I nodded. I really had been a terrible mom.

I couldn't even make sure Claire had enough to eat.

Tessa soon brought over a bowl of hot stew and some toast.

Claire's eyes lit up when she saw the food, but she didn't eat right away.

She looked around first, then picked up a piece of toast, wrapped it in a napkin, and carefully slipped it into her pocket.

Caleb frowned. "What are you doing?"

Claire guarded her pocket warily. "This is for Mommy."

Caleb scoffed. "Your mom eats much better than you do. You don't need to worry about her."

Claire shook her head and said seriously, "Mommy always says she's not hungry, but she's lying. She's hungry."

My tears started falling again.

She knew everything.

Caleb said nothing more. He sat across from her at the table and watched as she finally began to eat.

Halfway through the meal, she picked the carrots out.

Without thinking, Caleb frowned and said, "Kate, don't be picky."

He and I froze at the same time.

Caleb realized what he had said, and his expression stiffened for a moment.

Claire tilted her head. "Do you know Mommy?"

Caleb didn't answer. He stood up and turned away.

"I'll keep you right here where I can see you. I don't believe Kate won't come for you."

With that, he went upstairs, looking almost like he was running away.

Claire's eyes lit up. "Really? Mommy will come for me?"

That night, Claire refused to sleep in the guest room. She insisted on sleeping on the couch.

Tessa tried to coax her for a long time. "Come on, sweetheart. The bed is soft, and the couch is so hard."

Claire clutched the little box and curled up in the corner of the couch, refusing to let go.

Tessa had no choice but to go upstairs and talk to Caleb.

Caleb sounded annoyed. "Kids are such a hassle. Leave her alone. She can sleep wherever she wants."

However, he still came downstairs and tossed a blanket over Claire.

…

Claire slept on the couch for three days.

Every morning when Caleb came downstairs, he saw her curled up into a tiny ball.

At four and a half years old, she was so tiny that she was barely bigger than a throw pillow.

On the third night, Caleb worked until after midnight. When he came downstairs for a glass of water, he passed through the living room.

Claire was curled up on the couch, the blanket kicked off long ago. She was shivering from the cold and mumbling, "Mommy, it's cold."

Caleb stood there watching her for a while. Then he bent down, picked up the blanket, and covered her with it again.

His fingers accidentally brushed against her ice-cold cheek.

He frowned and went to the closet for a thicker blanket.

The next morning, he frowned deeply. "Your mom's too cruel to you. Doesn't she ever let you sleep in a bed?"

Claire shook her head. "No. She sleeps on the couch too."

Caleb didn't understand what she meant.

I broke down in tears.

There was only one couch in our home. When I was seriously ill, I often lost consciousness while lying on the couch.

Claire thought I was asleep. She would quietly crawl into my arms and hold me.

Even after she went to the orphanage, she liked staying on the couch in the reception area, as if she were still sleeping in my arms.