Chapter 6

Jean’s breath hitched, and her hands shook violently.

She looked at the doctor, her lips quivering.

“What did you say? Can you repeat that?”

The doctor was confused.

“Don’t you know that your eldest son has a sweet potato allergy?”

Ignorant of the pain and distress written all over Jean’s face, the doctor asked, “By the way, where is he now? I’ve stocked up on a new batch of allergy medication. He can just pop one of these if he mistakenly consumes sweet potatoes again.”

It took a while before Jean found her voice.

“He’s dead.”

The doctor apologized awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry. I had no idea.”

To be fair, it wasn’t his fault.

Fiddling with his fingers, the physician couldn’t keep his curiosity back anymore.

Did he die from ingesting sweet potatoes?”

Jean shook her head in a daze. Having lived through famine, she understood the brutal reality of starvation.

Her knuckles went white from her tight grip, and her expression looked lost.

She turned to the doctor, as if trying to seek confirmation of some sort.

“Is an allergy severe? Does it cause death?”

“Well, it depends, but based on the reaction your eldest had back then, it was a miracle that he survived the allergy attack.”

Jean had to dig her fingernails into her palms until the skin broke just to keep her composure.

In the busy street, no one noticed the silence of a woman from a small village.

Only I noticed her.

Jean was barely holding on.

My body was left with the businessman, and Jean would have no access to me.

She quickly pulled herself together.

While taking the route home, she rambled.

“An allergy can be fatal? How could that be worse than starving?

“Are you an idiot? Why couldn’t you call for help when you had nothing to eat?

“With all that education, you couldn’t even save yourself.”

Jean put the blame on me, accusing me of not asking for help or figuring something out.

It was as if by doing so, she could feel better.

She conveniently forgot how deep the cellar was. Even if I were to scream the roof down, only Jean could hear me.

At the time, she said, “Why are you screaming for help? Is it abuse if I’m trying to discipline you? I can’t let you out now. You need to learn this the hard way to get this through to your head.”

Then, I lost the strength to cry out as my body was weak and weary.

Lying in a pile of killer sweet potatoes, I waited in despair for death to claim me.

Jean’s mind went blank. Struck by a thought, she stopped her tirade.

After a heavy silence, she wiped away her tears and uttered, “This is fate, Graham.

“Tanner is all I have now. He’s a good kid. Please watch over him from heaven.

“At least I still have him. He’ll take care of me once he finds success.”

While strolling along, she kept praying for me to protect him from above.

Once inside the house, she looked at the dark, gaping maw of the cellar. She opened her mouth and murmured a quick apology.

She then averted her gaze, no longer staring at the cellar.

The next day, Jean put a lock on the cellar and rolled a barrel over the lid.