Chapter 3

Particularly anxious, Mom knocked on stall after stall, terrified something might have happened to me. "I'm here!" I yelled out. After wiping away my tears, I walked over to her with my eyes red-rimmed. Startled by my appearance, she gently stroked my face. "What's wrong? Who upset our sweetheart? Why are you crying? Talk to me, please?" The woman in front of me was the exact same woman I'd known forever, and yet, looking at her now only made my stomach churn. "It's nothing, Mom. I probably just ate something bad and have an upset stomach." I leaned against her shoulder to hide the hatred in my eyes. She helplessly ruffled my hair before taking me back to the Crowley residence. Thaddeus had already heard and was waiting at the front door. This man—who just two hours ago had been tenderly stroking another woman's belly—now embraced me gently and rubbed my stomach. "Lucille said that your tummy's not feeling great, so I rushed back and cooked some chicken noodle soup for you. It's almost ready. Have some, then go rest." Only then did I notice the apron tied around his waist. If it weren't for the things I'd seen at the hospital earlier, I could never have imagined that Thaddeus, the man who cared for me in every possible detail, had always loved another woman. This was the man who had moved closer to the Fairchild residence when we first got married so that I could be closer to my parents. This was the man who would murmur my name in his dreams at night. And yet, he still didn't love me. No, the person he loved was Rowena. For her sake, he had been willing to marry me and put up this act for all these years. I had to admire his acting skills. "Dan, Lucille, stay and eat with us." After settling me on the couch, Thaddeus went back to bustling around in the kitchen. My parents couldn't stop marveling at how lucky they were to have such a wonderful son-in-law. Meanwhile, I was staring at a painting hanging on the wall. I had never understood why Thaddeus insisted on hanging such a seemingly ugly painting in the most prominent spot in the house. Now, watching my parents approach the painting right after they entered the house—eyes lingering as if seeing someone through it—and noticing the small "R" in the corner, I finally understood. The painter was important, and thus the painting had to be displayed in the most eye-catching place. "The food's ready. Come eat." When all the dishes were brought to the dinner table, I realized that all these years, Thaddeus had never once cooked the dishes that I actually liked. For six long years, I had buried this question deep in my heart. I comforted myself by saying that these were the foods he liked, and that since he had put so much effort into taking care of me, it was only right that I compromise and eat whatever he preferred. But now, I couldn't help but wonder whether he was the one who enjoyed these dishes—or if it was Rowena. "What's wrong, Marisol?" Noticing my pale complexion, Thaddeus worriedly scooped some food onto my plate. After a brief pause, Mom spoke up, her tone stiff. "Seeing you two so happy makes your dad and me feel at ease. I just can't help but think about…" The unspoken words referred to Rowena. Over the years, Mom often casually mentioned her whenever she felt happy. I was grateful that they had given up their biological daughter for my sake, so each time, I would always be wracked with so much guilt that I couldn't say a word. "I wonder how that child is doing now… She is our biological daughter, after all. I just hope she isn't suffering too much in Corovia. As long as she's alive, that's enough," Mom said. "Marisol, don't blame your mom either. At the end of the day, that child is our own flesh and blood. She's already paid for what she did. Let the past stay in the past—you should let it go, too," Dad chimed in, sighing and agreeing with Mom.