Pria Yang Menjadi Ayah Anakku

After I was reborn, I sold the cheap watch that Jerome Shaw had given me.

I exchanged it for some money, bought some grains, and went home to cook a meal, saving the two children who were on the brink of starvation.

Once the children had recovered a little, I took them with me to find Jerome.

After a long and bumpy journey, about half a day later, we arrived at the place where Jerome lived.

Only then did I realize he had been living less than 30 miles away from us. Yet, in the past three years, he had not come to see us even once.

I spoke to the guard, and he warmly led us to Jerome's place.

"Mr. and Mrs. Shaw! You have guests!" the guard shouted.

The door opened, and a familiar voice shouted, "Who is it?"

When we met face to face, both I and Miranda Jones froze. She was wearing a floral blouse and clean black pants.

I wore an 8-year-old short-sleeved shirt, one that had already faded from countless washes.

My hair was messy, and my skin had become rough from years of exposure to the sun.

She looked like a wealthy lady out of a magazine, while I looked like a plain, tired country bumpkin.

She clearly had not expected my arrival. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

Just then, Jerome sensed something was wrong and came out.

The moment he saw me and the two children, his eyes widened. Panicked, he dragged us inside.

He did not bother to hide his irritation.

"Nathalie, didn't I tell you not to come here? Why did you bring the children too?"

I frowned. "Why did that man just now call her Mrs. Shaw?"

Jerome was stunned momentarily, a look of panic flashing across his face.

Just then, Miranda Jones—the one referred to as Mrs. Shaw—had just finished dealing with the people outside and entered the room. She quickly explained, "Nathalie, don't misunderstand. They're just joking around."

Jerome also nodded. "Yes, they like to joke. You know there's nothing going on between me and her."

Just as he finished speaking, a child, just over a meter tall, ran out from another room, hugging Jerome's waist affectionately.

"Daddy, why did you come out? Come back and keep playing Ludo with me!"

I immediately recognized the child—Miranda's son, Alex Shaw.

Three years ago, he had been small and skinny. Now, he was chubby and rosy-cheeked. Meanwhile, my children were nothing but skin and bones, helping me labor in the fields daily.

Forget Ludo—even chess was something they had never even heard of.

Miranda noticed the change in my expression and quickly pulled Alex away.

Jerome tried to butter me up by grabbing my hand.

"Nat, don't misunderstand. Alex calls me Dad because he doesn't remember my older brother. He was bullied at school, and I stood up for him once."

I said nothing.

He grew anxious and asked, "You're not jealous of a child, are you?"