Chapter 3

On our way home, Evan took the medal he'd received at sports day out of his backpack.

I thought he was going to wear it, but while I was paying the taxi fare, he tossed it into a nearby trash can.

I froze.

"We didn't win it as a family," he whispered.

Later that night, I was helping him change his dressing when he suddenly asked, "Mommy, if I stop crying whenever I get hurt, will Daddy spend a little more time with me?"

I set down the cotton swab, my voice hoarse.

"No, sweetheart. He won't."

Evan stared at me in confusion, so I took his hand and held it gently.

"You don't have to hide your pain to earn anyone's love."

His leg still hadn't healed, so he couldn't participate in the kindergarten's anniversary performance. Knowing that the day also happened to be his birthday, Beatrice arranged for him to deliver a short message of good wishes at the end of the show.

Evan practiced every day, but he'd crossed out one sentence in his .

"My birthday wish is for Daddy to listen to me until I finish speaking."

When I asked why he didn't want to say it, he lowered his head and whispered, "Daddy might not have time anyway. There's no point in saying it."

…

On the day of the anniversary celebration, the performances were already halfway through, but Xavier still hadn't shown up.

Evan sat backstage, occasionally glancing toward the entrance before lowering his head to rehearse his lines again.

It wasn't until the show was nearly over that Xavier finally arrived, with Annette by his side. He showed her to the family seating area but didn't come over to join us.

The children backstage followed Evan's gaze and immediately crowded around him.

"Didn't you say you had a dad? Then why is that man sitting with another lady?"

"That lady isn't your mom, so that man can't be your dad either."

"Your dad never comes to any of your school events. You're obviously making him up!"

Evan clutched his tightly. "He is my dad!"

"No, he's not! He won't even look at you!"

One child snatched his birthday hat away while another shoved him. He was already unsteady on his feet, and his injured leg gave way. He fell hard to the floor.

As soon as Beatrice told me what had happened, I called Xavier. He arrived backstage shortly afterward and immediately scooped Evan into his arms, instinctively reaching out with his other hand to steady me.

But just then, Annette sidled up to him.

"Xavier, didn't you promise to take me to visit my brother's grave today?"

He stopped in his tracks.

"Never mind." Annette glanced at Evan in his arms, forcing a smile. "You stay with him. I can go by myself."

The hesitation on Xavier's face instantly gave way to guilt, and I'd finally had enough.

"If you want to leave, then go," I cut in.

As Xavier left the backstage area, the children's taunts grew louder.

"I knew it! He's not your dad!"

"Nobody wants you or your mom!"

…

At ten that night, Xavier finally returned home with a cake.

Evan glanced at it but said nothing.

"Annette suddenly wanted something sweet, so I dropped this off for her first," Xavier explained. "It would've been a waste to throw the rest away."

I looked at him. "So this is someone else's leftover birthday cake?"

Xavier's expression darkened.

"He's just a child. Does he really need to be so picky?"

I didn't argue with him any further.

Around midnight, I packed Evan's identification documents and a few changes of clothes into a suitcase.

Xavier leaned against the doorway, watching me.

"Going through that running-away routine again, are you?"

I pulled the zipper shut as he let out a mocking laugh.

"Take an injured child out for a walk around the park, then come back home," he drawled. "That's about as far as you'll get."