Chapter 2 The Choice to Leave

After I was discharged from the hospital, the first place I went was the nursing facility on the outskirts of the city.

I pushed open the white door, and the sharp scent of disinfectant washed over me.

My mother, Elena Hayes, sat by the window, staring blankly outside. She was dressed neatly in her patient gown, her hair combed carefully into place.

Evelyn had arranged all of it.

"Mom," I called softly.

She turned her head slowly. Her gaze lingered on my face for a long moment before a faint smile appeared. "Julian, you're here."

Relief flooded through me. Today, she recognized me.

I walked over and kneeled in front of her, burying my head in her lap just like I had when I was a child.

Her dry hand stroked my hair, again and again. Then, she suddenly asked, "Have you been unhappy lately?"

My nose stung. She had been sick for so many years. Her memories were like grains of sand scattered by the wind, yet she had always been sensitive to my emotions.

And so, I lied. "No, Mom. I'm fine."

She cupped my face in her hands. A trace of clarity flickered in her cloudy eyes. "There are tears in your eyes."

I could not hold back anymore. Tears rolled down my cheeks. "Mom, I'm getting divorced."

She stared at me for a long time, so long that I thought she had forgotten what we were talking about. Then she gently patted my back, soothing me the way someone would comfort a baby.

"Good. It's good you're leaving her. Julian, you shouldn't be living like this."

I looked up in shock. "Mom, you remember?"

She smiled, a childlike pride in her expression. "I remember. Evelyn isn't a good person. Every time she visited, she smelled like a different man's cologne."

She wrinkled her nose as if she had smelled something dirty. "She thought I was confused and wouldn't notice."

My heart sank.

Even my mother, whose mind was slipping away, could see the truth. Yet I had spent seven years forcing myself not to see it.

Fighting back sobs, I said, "Mom, I'm taking you with me. We're going overseas. I found a job in Alderheim, at a large design firm—"

She shook her head, and the clarity vanished from her eyes. "No. It's nice here. There are flowers, trees, and your father's picture."

I followed her gaze to the nightstand. An old photograph sat there, showing my father when he was young. He had been gone for twenty years, but my mother had never forgotten him.

"Mom, Dad has been gone for a long time—"

She raised a finger to her lips and whispered, "Shh. Your father came to see me last night. He said it's time for us to be free."

The dam inside me broke, and tears poured down my face.

She knew. She had known all along. She was simply protecting the last scraps of my dignity in her own way.

That evening, when I returned home, I began packing.

…

As expected, Evelyn had not come back. Perhaps she was still in that hotel room with that man, finishing what they had started.

I opened the closet. It was filled with custom-tailored suits she had bought for me.

I did not take a single one. The only clothes I packed were the few old outfits I had bought for myself seven years ago.

My phone vibrated. A bill from the nursing facility had arrived.

The monthly treatment cost was well into six figures, and Evelyn had been paying every cent of it.

I stared at the number for a long time. Then I transferred every dollar of my savings to the account.

It was money I had saved from my job before marriage, along with what I had earned from a few freelance projects over the years.

It was not much, but it was enough to cover six months of my mother's care.

After I finished everything, I dialed a number. "Hi, this is Julian Sinclair. From now on, I'll be paying for Elena's treatment myself."

There was a brief silence on the other end.

"Mr. Sinclair, are you certain? Given Ms. Hayes' condition, standard health insurance rarely covers expenses like these—"

"I'm certain," I interrupted. "And there's something else. I want to transfer her to another facility."