Chapter 3Fading Memories: Husband and Son, I've Already Forgotten You

After delivering lunch to my son, I passed by Ethan's company and had a sudden urge to go up and see him.

Ethan had grown his small studio into a listed company that now occupied an entire office building.

I had witnessed every step of his journey.

Carrying some afternoon tea, I had just stepped out of the elevator when the receptionist greeted me with a smile: "Mrs. Shen, it's been a while since you last visited!"

I smiled faintly and nodded at her, then walked inside.

Ethan was in a meeting, so I sat outside waiting for him.

"Samantha!"

I looked up, startled to see Rachel. What was she doing here?

"I got bored, so I came to work for Ethan," she said.

I glanced at the name tag on her chest: 'Executive Assistant'.

"Let me get you some tea. The weather's getting cold."

Rachel brought out a cup of tea from the pantry. Just as she was about to place it in front of me, someone rushing by bumped into her.

She lost her balance and fell to the ground, shattering the teacup. Her palm was deeply cut, blood spilling onto the floor.

I crouched down, wanting to check her injury.

Ethan saw the injured Rachel through the glass of the conference room.

He dropped the documents in his hand and pushed open the door.

He shoved me aside and pulled Rachel into his arms.

I fell to the ground, staring at him in shock.

He turned his head to look at me, frowning:

"What's wrong with you?!"

"Rachel and I are old classmates. She just came to help me at the company."

"Can't you keep your female jealousy out of my company?!"

Rachel, in pain from the shard in her palm, cried out but still said softly to Ethan:

"It's not Samantha's fault... I was just careless..."

Ethan glared at me, then carried Rachel out, full of concern.

I sat on the floor, watching his back, rubbing my bruised arm, trying hard to suppress the rising bitterness.

An alarm reminded me it was time to pick up my son from kindergarten.

Since the last incident, I had set reminders for everything.

Standing at the kindergarten gate, I looked around. My son walked up to me, looking deflated.

I gently stroked his head:

"What's wrong, son? Did something unpleasant happen today?"

He looked up at me, his eyes as cold as Ethan's:

"Mom, can't you dress up a bit?"

"Like Aunt Rachel."

"Look at other kids' moms. I feel so embarrassed with you like this!"

I looked down at my yellowing white down jacket and worn-out canvas shoes.

My expression stiffened, and I forced a laugh:

"Okay, okay. Mommy will dress up nicely to pick you up tomorrow."