The Child She Wrote out of Her Life

"Ethan, what are you spacing out for?"

A hard slap on the shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts.

Liam Yates stood beside me with a lesson plan in hand, giving me a puzzled look.

I frowned, my voice coming out colder than usual. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

Liam paused, then gave my shoulder an exasperated shove.

"Come on, we've known each other since elementary school. It's just a habit. Alright, alright, Mr. Jepsen. You can stop glaring at me now."

He gestured toward the hallway outside the classroom. "Your student is already here. They're waiting for you."

I drew in a slow breath and tamped down the emotions churning inside me, but my hands still tightened into fists.

"Why don't you teach this one?" I said.

"What?"

Liam stared at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"Dylan, you're kidding, right? I've read the kid's file. His case is pretty serious, and you're the expert in this field. You're obviously the better person for the job. I'm not sure I can handle it."

A humorless smile tugged at my lips as I revealed, "He's Yvonne Scott's grandson."

For the next few seconds, neither of us said a word, and the smile vanished from Liam's face.

We had grown up together, so no one understood better what the name Yvonne Scott meant to me.

"That witch? Wait. She's bringing her grandson here for lessons?"

Liam hurriedly flipped through the paperwork in his hand. When his eyes landed on the child's name, he went completely still.

"Ethan... Jepsen?" he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery. "What the hell is wrong with her? Why would she give her grandson the same name as her own son?"

I shook my head, my face expressionless. "I'm not her son anymore."

Liam sighed.

He patted me on the back, then took the textbook from my hands. "Fine. I'll take the class. No reason to put yourself through that. If you don't want to see her, then don't."

We quickly went over the key points for the lesson, but handing the class off to Liam did nothing to ease the knot in my chest.

That name was like an old wound that had never healed. Two decades had passed, yet hearing it could still put every nerve in my body on edge.

I left through the side door and headed toward the lobby.

Just as I reached the entrance, I found myself face-to-face with Yvonne, who had stepped out with Ethan to take him to the restroom.

Our eyes met, and she froze.

The same eyes that had once terrified me widened in shock.

"Ethan?"

My steps faltered.

Her mouth opened, but for a long moment, no words came out.

Maybe that was only natural. After 20 years apart, we were practically strangers.

She had aged considerably. Deep lines now creased the corners of her eyes, but she still carried herself with that same stern yet grandmotherly air.

It was almost impossible to reconcile that image with the woman who, 20 years ago, had looked at me when I was only six and said, "Why didn't you die?"

A little boy stood tucked against her side.

He looked about five or six years old. His eyes darted nervously around the room as he shrank behind Yvonne.