Chapter 3

Three days later, I returned to my home with Sharon. It wasn't because I couldn't bear to leave it. I had returned to clear it out.

The house was registered in my name. My parents had paid the down payment before I got married, and I had been paying the mortgage on my own.

Sharon had only lived here for three months. After that, it became like a hospital room no one ever visited.

The night lamp in Stellan's bedroom was still on. A sheet of paper was taped to the headboard.

A line was written on top of the paper, "Countdown Until Mom Comes Home".

The number had stopped at 1826.

I stood in the doorway for a long time.

Stellan had updated it every night before bed. From 100, it became 300. Then, from 500, it progressed to 1,000.

Later, his hands had trembled so badly that I wrote the numbers for him.

He would stare at the door and ask, "Daddy, is Mommy really coming back?"

I always said yes.

Then, he would ask, "Will she not remember me anymore?"

I would stroke his head and assure him. "She will remember."

But the truth was, Sharon had indeed almost forgotten about Stellan.

She remembered that Aiden couldn't eat mangoes and that he was afraid of alcohol wipes. She knew which story he wanted to hear before bed.

However, she didn't remember that Stellan's medication had been adjusted three times. She wasn't aware that he could no longer lie flat. She didn't know that what he feared most wasn't surgery.

It was that his mother never came home.

I pulled open a drawer. Inside were all the gifts Stellan had prepared for Sharon, neatly arranged.

There was a little paper medal.

On the back, he had written, "Thanks for your hard work, Mommy."

There was also a tiny star-shaped hair clip. Stellan had said that Sharon wouldn't be able to wear it during surgery, so she could wear it at home instead.

There was also a box that contained pieces of chocolate that had melted and hardened again. The wrapping papers were badly wrinkled. Stellan saved one piece on his birthday every year.

"This is for Mommy to eat when she comes home," he had said.

I picked up the box of chocolates. The separated cocoa butter had seeped out. It stuck to my fingertips.

In that moment, I felt like they symbolized a hopeless sense of prolonged waiting that had begun to rot from the inside.

When the movers arrived, they looked at the various medical equipment in the house and hesitated.

"Mr. Stone, should we move these too?" they asked.

I replied, "Donate anything that's still usable to the hospital."

"What about the child's bed?"

I looked at the little bed. There were several bite marks on the rail. Stellan had bitten it when the pain became unbearable.

"Take it apart," I said evenly.

While they were carrying out the oxygen concentrator, I found a document folder at the very bottom of the nightstand. Inside were the treatment plans Sharon had mailed back.

The earliest ones spanned pages and were covered with dense handwriting. Every annotation had been meticulous.

"Handle Stellan's right ventricular outflow tract with extreme caution."

"Long-term monitoring of pulmonary artery pressure changes is required."

"Wait for me to come back."

But the later treatment plans became thinner and thinner. In the end, the final update had stopped two years earlier.

After that, what she mailed back were mostly Aiden's medical reports. She had asked me to take a look at them because Chris didn't understand medicine and was prone to worrying.

Back then, I hadn't even thought her request was absurd. I had simply believed she was too kind and took her job as a doctor too seriously.

Only now did I understand that she hadn't been saving lives. She had been making Stellan pay, little by little, for the debt she felt she owed Chris.

Hurried footsteps came from the front door.

In the next second, Sharon rushed inside. She was wearing a white coat, and her hair was slightly disheveled.

The moment she stepped in, she frowned at the sight before her. "What are you all doing?"

No one answered.

So, she turned to me. "Elliot, have you lost your mind?"

I packed the medicine from the cabinet into bags, one box at a time.

"Donate everything that hasn't expired." I said.

Sharon strode over and grabbed my hand. "Who said you could throw away Stellan's medicine?"

I looked up at her and said grimly, "He doesn't need it anymore."

"What do you mean by that?" Sharon asked, her expression darkening. "I came back to take Stellan to Jervale for a medical evaluation. I've already assembled the team. Within three months, I'll perform the surgery myself."

I looked at the little blue star pin on her chest.

In a medical magazine photo, Aiden had stuck a star sticker with the same design onto her white coat.

He had said to her, "Mama Shay, this is your reward."

Mama Shay. What an intimate name he had for her.

When I remained silent, Sharon's voice softened as she said, "Eli, I know you've suffered these past few years. Once Stellan's surgery is successful, our family can start over."

I pulled my hand away and responded curtly, "There's no need."

Sharon frowned with displeasure. "What exactly are you making a fuss about?"

I ignored her.

She picked up one of the medicine boxes and glanced at the expiration date.

Then, she spoke in an even more accusing voice. "Stellan can't just stop taking his medicine. What kind of father are you? Aidy cried today because he didn't want to have his blood drawn, and it broke my heart. But look at you… You've even moved Stellan's monitors out."

I laughed upon hearing that.

Sharon was taken aback. "What are you laughing at?"

I picked up a document envelope from the table and handed it to her. "Sign it."

"What?"

"The divorce agreement."

The movers all stopped in their tracks, and the moving sounds halted abruptly.

Sharon stared wide-eyed at the agreement as though she had seen the most absurd thing. "Elliot, this isn't funny."

"I'm not joking," I deadpanned.

Exasperated, Sharon argued, "Is it just because I accompanied Aidy to his follow-up appointment? He's only six years old. He trembles whenever he sees a hospital.

"Chris is a single father. He can't handle taking care of Aidy by himself. I'm a doctor. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

I nodded. "Yes. You're a doctor."

Her expression eased a little as she huffed, "I'm glad you understand."

I pushed another stack of papers toward her.

She lowered her head and glanced at them. It was a death certificate, and the name at the very top read, "Stellan Stone". Her hand froze.

I looked at her and said gravely, "Stop looking for the medicine. His medicine, his bed, his monitors… He doesn't need any of them anymore.

"Stellan's heart beat for the last time on the day you accompanied Aiden to his follow-up appointment."

Sharon didn't cry. She simply stood there and stared blankly at the death certificate. It was as if she suddenly couldn't recognize a single word on the page.

After a long time, she let out a laugh and said, "It's fake."

I said nothing.

She picked up the paper, her fingertips trembling violently. "Elliot, I can't believe you actually forged something like this just to force me to come home."

She turned and rushed into Stellan's room.

The little bed was gone. The monitors were gone. The medical reports had all been torn down from the walls, leaving only pale adhesive marks behind.

Upon seeing that, the color slowly drained from her face.

She rushed back out and grabbed one of the movers by the arm. "Where's my son? Where's the boy who lived here?"

The mover was startled by her crazed reaction.

He responded, "Ma'am, we don't know."

Sharon turned to me and asked, "Where's Stellan?"

I pointed at the white box on the table. Inside it was the confirmation receipt for his organ and tissue donation.