I wanted to ask Seth the truth, but Garry ordered me to babysit instead.
I had no choice but to endure it again. When the teacher arrived, I would definitely take my son and leave.
I went to the kitchen to cook and was startled to see a frail little boy rummaging through the trash.
His hair was unkempt, and his clothes hung in tatters.
I quickly slapped his hand away.
"The trash is filthy—you can’t eat from there! Whose child are you? Why are you here?"
The boy looked at me, frozen, silent, and unmoving.
Surprised, I took a piece of candy from my pocket, one I had intended for Seth.
"If you’re hungry, eat this first. I’ll give you more once I finish cooking."
Still no reaction. It was as if he couldn’t speak.
Just as I was about to ask again, a nanny stormed over and twisted his ear.
"You useless brat! Who told you to wander around?" She scolded him, then kicked him hard.
The boy fell to the ground but didn’t make a sound.
The nanny quickly dragged him away.
As I stood there, confused, someone yanked me back roughly. I stumbled and looked up to see Garry glaring at me with contempt.
"Jane, he’s the nanny’s sickly, low-born child. What are you doing talking to him? Where’s the food? You don’t want to see your son, is that it?"
I quickly brought the food to the table. Natasha and Seth were already seated.
Garry sat beside Natasha and lovingly spoon-fed her.
Suddenly, Natasha’s expression twisted, and she flung a plate at me.
The scalding soup spilled across my chest, making me cry out in pain.
"Don’t you know I can’t eat fish?!" she screamed.
"Honey, look—my skin’s turning red! Am I going to die?"
Natasha displayed her reddened neck and cried to Garry, playing the victim.
I stood there, stunned. She wrote today’s menu herself...
"She didn’t even touch the fish—how could she be allergic?" I said quietly.
"Jane!" Garry shouted. "I thought you’d be more understanding! Do you know that allergies can be fatal? You’re being petty and careless!"
Natasha sobbed louder, making Garry even more agitated.
He picked up the fish from the floor and shoved it into my mouth.
"You’re saying it’s fine? Aren’t you allergic to fish, too? Try it, then!"
He kept forcing the fish in, and the bones jabbed into my gums and tongue, making me wince.
I tried to spit it out, but he jammed more in with his hands.
Soon, itchy welts bloomed all over my skin, and my face began to swell.
Tears streamed down as I gasped for breath, my throat tightening, my vision blurring.
Looking at Garry’s furious face, I couldn’t help but recall our past.
I’d always had multiple allergies. Back then, he was so attentive to what I ate.
Now, all that care was reserved for someone else.
I couldn’t breathe. Everything went black.
When I arrived, I saw Garry sitting by my hospital bed, looking anxious.
"You should’ve said something instead of being so stubborn. Do you know how close you were to dying? The doctor said one more minute and it would’ve been too late!"
I turned my face away. I didn’t want to see his performance.
He paused, silent for a moment, knowing deep down he’d gone too far.
He reached out and pulled me into his arms.
"Jane, I didn’t mean to… I lost control."
Just then, the door burst open, and Natasha’s chirpy voice rang out.
"Honey! You’re the best! You found me the top doctor! The treatment worked—look, the redness is almost gone!"
Garry immediately let go of me and rushed over to her. She hung on his neck with glee.
"Good thing there are no scars. Be more careful next time—stay away from allergens, okay?"
He gave her a serious look, then kissed her cheek gently.
They flirted in front of me like I didn’t exist. Disgust churned in my gut.
"Honey, you haven’t taken me to buy that bag yet. Let’s go now!"
Garry hesitated, glancing my way, but let her drag him out.
As she left, Natasha shot me a triumphant look.
I left the hospital in the evening once I’d recovered a little.
Rain poured heavily outside.
When I got home, I realized I couldn’t open the door.
I knocked and shouted, but no one answered.
The cold rain soaked through my clothes, making me shiver uncontrollably.
"Madam says you’re being punished. Stand in the rain and reflect."
The nanny opened the door just wide enough to speak but didn’t let me in.
She stared at me, then slammed it shut.
Forced to remain outside, rain blurring my eyes, I caught sight of someone nearby.
It was the same boy from the kitchen, crouched in a corner, dazed.
I walked over to him slowly.
He sat motionless, rain dripping from his messy hair.
I gently pushed his hair aside—and froze.
There, on the side of his neck, was a familiar crescent-shaped birthmark.
My breath caught in my throat.
My son had the exact same mark.
