Chapter 2

I left, sneaking out of the home I had lived in my whole life like a thief.

The door at home was not shut tight, and Elise’s suppressed sobs and Albert’s heavy breathing drifted out from the living room.

I did not dare look back, because I was afraid that if I looked back and saw Albert chasing after me, my heart would soften and I would not be able to bear leaving.

The sky outside was gray, pressing down so hard that people could hardly breathe.

The wind scraped across my face like knives, cutting my skin again and again, and cutting the heart that had just been pierced by a blade.

I was cold, but that cold was nothing compared to the chill in my heart.

People on the street looked at me strangely, as if they were looking at a lunatic.

I lowered my head, stuffed my hands into the pockets of my worn cotton coat, and touched a hard, square little thing.

It was the photo of Albert as a child that I had secretly hidden away.

In the photo, he was grinning with a toothless mouth, smiling like a little sun, and his curved eyes were brighter than the stars in the sky.

Back then, he was so tiny, and he could not be away from me for even one minute.

I raised him, watched him go to school, start working, and get married.

I thought my mission was complete, and I could hold grandchildren in peace and enjoy a little happiness.

But I had grown old and gotten sick, and in turn, I had become his child...

A troublesome, filthy child who would never grow up.

I walked aimlessly, my legs as heavy as if they were filled with lead and as unsteady as if I were stepping on cotton, each step so heavy yet so hollow.

When I reached an intersection, the red light came on, and all the cars stopped.

I saw a little boy across the road, wearing a red coat and holding a doughnut, feeding it to his mother.

That pink color, under the gray sky, looked like a dancing flame, instantly lighting up a corner deep in my memory.

Suddenly, I really wanted to eat a doughnut.

When he was little, Albert loved them most too.

Every time I got paid, I would buy one for him.

He always let me take the first bite.

That sweet taste could warm me from my mouth all the way to my heart, and it was the most luxurious sweetness in those poor days.

My legs would not listen to me, and I walked straight toward the other side of the road.

I wanted to ask that little boy whether doughnuts still tasted the same as they used to.

“Beep—!”

The piercing honk was so sharp it seemed like it would tear my eardrums apart.

I turned my head and saw only a blinding beam of white light, like the gates of hell opening, and like judgment descending from heaven.

Then my body became light.

The world went quiet.

I floated up, like a weightless feather, and like a wisp of smoke, rising lightly into the sky.

I looked down and saw a shriveled, skinny old woman lying in a pool of blood.

Her hair was gray and thin, her cotton coat hung loose on her body, and she was still tightly clutching a yellowed photo in her hand.

Even I was shocked, because that was... me?

I was dead.

But I did not feel released, nor did I feel light.

There was only one thought in my heart, like a beast trapped in a cage, screaming wildly—

Albert!

If Albert could not find me, he would go crazy with worry!

He had only just said those words about letting me be released, and now that I had left, what would he think?

He would hate himself for the rest of his life!

I could not let him do that!

But where was Albert, and where was my home?

I could not remember...

I began to recall, desperately searching through my mind for memories.

I saw it.

I saw a little child spread his chubby arms and toddle toward me unsteadily.

That was Albert when he was only one year old.

Every step he took felt like he was stepping on the tip of my heart.

“Albert, come here, come to me,” I said as I crouched on the ground and opened my arms.

He grinned with his toothless mouth, giggling as he threw himself into my arms.

That small, warm body carried a milky scent, and it was the best smell I had ever known in my life.

Holding him was like holding my entire world.

The image shifted, and I stood at the gate of an elementary school, while six-year-old Albert clutched the corner of my shirt and refused to let go.

“Mom, I don’t want to go to school, I want to go home with you.”

He cried so hard that the whole world seemed to shake, with snot and tears smeared all over his face.

My heart was sour and soft, but I still hardened myself and pried his fingers away one by one.

“Be good, Albert. You need school to have a future, and I’ll come pick you up tonight.”

I watched him carry the brand-new backpack I had sewn by hand, looking back every few steps as he walked into the school gate, until that tiny figure disappeared around the corner.

I stood there for a long time, feeling empty inside.

Back then, I already knew that one day, my child would walk toward a distant place where I would not be.

The only thing I could do was pack his bags properly for him.

The river of memory kept surging forward.

It was that sweltering summer, and Albert was about to take his exam.

He wrote furiously in his room, while I sweated heavily in the kitchen.

I made his favorite braised beef ribs and baked lobster with cheese in different ways, afraid he would not get enough nourishment.

Outside the exam site, I stood under the blazing sun, anxiously looking around in the crowd.

What I clenched in my palm was not just sweat, but all my hopes for his future.

I hoped he would fly high and far, yet I was afraid the wind would be too strong and break his wings.

When he held his acceptance letter and rushed to me excitedly, shouting, “Mom, I’m going to college!” I smiled and smiled, and then tears fell.