Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

I could see that the chubby kid had a lively and extroverted personality, which was undeniably cute. Little did I know that it was all thanks to Lee and Kristine painting a rosy picture of me. This child, who had just started nursery school last year, rarely interacted with his mother. During the holidays, I often dropped him off at his grandparents’ house, and like many neglected kids, he would ask them if I didn’t like him, why I didn’t want to spend time with him, or if I even missed him. 

Lee and Kristine would reassure him that, just as his dad worked, I had my own responsibilities too. They explained that I was busy for his sake, and being so young, he believed them without question, especially since his friends had busy parents as well.

By the end of my visit, I realized that it isn’t so bad being here. I could not understand why the previous Gwyneth resisted spending time at her parents' home. 

But I wasn’t her, so I will never know.

I was treated well here. Lee kept the house in pristine condition and could cook just about anything. When I casually mentioned wanting to buy a cake on the way home, Lee jumped into action, baking cookies and cupcakes.

In this family, I felt pampered—pretty much all I had to do was relax and enjoy life. While Lee worked in the kitchen, Kristine and I lounged on the sofa, watching TV, with the kid on my lap and delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. I almost didn’t want to leave.

During our time together, Kristine asked, "You're going to Charcot tomorrow?" 

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I could stop whatever disaster was looming. "Dylan's dad has been in Charcot for almost half a month. He called a few days ago saying he missed him. Since I'm not busy, I think I’ll just go visit and explore a bit."

"That’s a great idea," Kristine said, glancing at her grandson. "Right now, Dylan doesn’t understand much. But once he’s older, if you and your husband aren’t close, it’s the child who suffers the most. Gwym, get along with him. Even though he's older, he’s a successful and good person. You and Dylan can depend on him.”

I hadn’t met Ajax yet, and my memories of him were vague. Kristine's advice about having a loving marital relationship felt naive. The original Gwyneth hadn’t even reached that level of understanding, so how could I? I figured as long as Ajax was alive, I could keep my situation comfortable.

Later that afternoon, while Lee and Kristine stepped out to buy prutas, Dylan pulled me into the kitchen. I was puzzled by his insistence. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

Without responding, he dragged me to a large rice container. He removed the lid and declared, "Look, Mom, there's so much rice here. You don’t need to work all the time and I can just eat less!"

The simplicity of his thinking made me chuckle. I patted his head and said, “Alright. There’s plenty of rice here.” 

I realized that the original Gwyneth had made one grave mistake in the novel—she had given her son away. Judging her other choices from the outside didn’t seem fair. After all, she merely prioritized herself—everyone has their own way of living. As long as one's lifestyle doesn't breach moral lines, it's acceptable.

But she is indeed different.

But why worry about her when my focus should be on my own circumstances? The original Gwyneth clearly had no intentions of returning, as her dreams suggested a life better than her existence as Ajax’s wife.

I gently asked Dylan, "Do you miss your dad?" 

He immediately nodded, exclaiming, "Yes!" his eyes were shining so bright, it almost blind me.

He really must have missed him based on the sparkle and puppy dog eyes.

"How about we hop on a plane to see him tomorrow?" I suggested.

His eyes lit up at the idea of flying, something he hadn’t experienced yet. 

After some thought, I realized that if I wanted to make the best of this situation, it would benefit me if Ajax remained alive. His relationship with the original Gwyneth was detached, and if I could maintain that distance, I wouldn't have to deal with marital complexities. Life would be stress-free as his wife, and I'd have a charming child to care for—one that didn't ask for much beyond fun and attention.

That is a good plan.

I looked around the family home, contemplating my decision. If Ajax's fate remained unchanged, moving back in with my parents and living off their support with my son would be pleasant. They would surely welcome me and Dylan back.

Of course, I would still need to support myself and the child.

After dinner, as I prepared to leave with Dylan, I noticed he looked at me curiously and remarked, "Mom, you seem different today." I blinked at him.

Taken aback for a moment, I quickly regained my composure. Even if I acted differently or made mistakes, nobody would realize the soul in this body had changed. 

"What do you mean different?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"You used to never hug me or take me out to play," he said, sounding a bit upset. 

I felt a twinge of guilt. Despite the neglect from his mother, he remained cheerful and loving, thanks in part to the affection from his grandparents and father. It made me think of my own childhood, longing for my parents' visits and the affection I sought from them.

I smiled at Dylan, "I was wrong before. I’m sorry. Can we start fresh?"

He paused for a second before breaking into a big grin. "I forgive you, as long as you don’t make this mistake again."

That was a relief. 

Children are really built different.

Once we got home, I decided to use Dylan to help me connect with Ajax, since the son would know much more of his father than me, his wife in paper . After giving him a bath and getting him comfortable, I said, "Can you help me with something?"

He eagerly replied, "Sure!" cutely nodding his head and waving his hand.

"We're taking a plane tomorrow to see dad, but I haven’t told him yet. Can you call him and let him know?"

It’s basic courtesy, I would also not want someone to suddenly show up to my house unannounced. Especially if it is your wife, who you dislike.

I knew I couldn’t just call Ajax myself; our relationship had been frozen, and reaching out would be awkward. But if Dylan reached out, I was sure Ajax would be open to the visit.

Dylan agreed readily. "Okay. Do you remember dad's phone number?" I teasingly asked, knowing I had it saved myself.

"I remember! Dad asked me to memorize his and Mom's phone numbers. That way, if I ever get lost, I can call either of you!" Dylan proudly announced, his chest puffing with pride. He wore a phone watch on his chubby wrist, and without me prompting him, he dialed his dad directly. 

Kids these days are so clever, they are so gen-alpha coded. Even though he couldn't read a single word, he managed to navigate the phone watch. I figured there were likely just a few numbers saved on it, making it easier for him to call the right person.

Dylan seemed quite adept at this; he probably called his dad often. 

The call was answered quickly. Ajax's gentle voice came through, asking, “Dylan, is something wrong? Why are you calling Dad?”

It struck me how fortunate Dylan was to have a dependable father. I felt a twinge of sympathy for the kid; if he had grown up in an uncaring environment, he could’ve turned out very differently. Ajax's presence must have played a significant role in shaping his lively personality.

I couldn't shake the thought that if Ajax hadn't tragically died, even the original Gwyneth might have raised Dylan in a happy environment. Then probably he won’t be a villain just like in the book. Dylan was just a kid, he wasn’t born evil at all.

The chubby kid looked at me and then shouted into the phone, "Dad, I miss you!" 

Ajax's laughter drifted through the receiver, warm and comforting. I felt as if my own heart might swell from just the sound.

“Dad misses you too. I’ll be back in a few days with lots of toys for you,” he responded. 

It was clear to me that Ajax had showered his son with kindness and patience. Regardless of his fate in the novel, he had been a good father.

Dylan didn’t want to wait. “You don’t have to wait! Mom said she’ll bring me to see you tomorrow!”

“Oh?” I could almost hear Ajax's smile fade as he processed that information. After a short pause, he questioned, “Mom’s bringing you to see me?”

“Yup!”

“She said that?”

“Yes!”

I could sense that Ajax was baffled, and it made me anxious. I assumed he would want to talk to me to figure out what was happening. I had rehearsed a speech in my mind multiple times, hoping to cover any potential questions or concerns.

To my surprise, he simply replied, “Okay, I understand. Dad will be waiting to see you both tomorrow.”

I was a bit taken aback. 

That was it? I couldn't help but raise my left eyebrow. He didn’t even consider asking to talk to me directly. How strange was their relationship? Even a couple of strangers might have more engagement than these two did. 

Well, it works for me though.

He wasn’t interested in speaking to me, and honestly, neither did I want to intrude on this cute father-son conversation. This was fortunate, I suppose. If there had been any lingering feelings between the original Gwyneth and Ajax, I wouldn’t know how to navigate that. 

Even though I was inhabiting Gwyneth's persona, I didn’t view Ajax as my husband. I simply couldn’t accept a stranger in that role. 

As I looked at the adorable little boy in front of me, I felt a similar sense of detachment. He was undeniably cute, full of charm and innocence, but I couldn’t see him as my son. 

I decided I could just be his quirky aunt, rather than trying to step into a maternal role that didn’t feel right. I wasn’t ready to play the part of a wife or mother; it was too much for me to bear.

I’m just trying to be a responsible adult.