“This was a forced choice. After all, your uterus has already decayed, and you can’t bear children. The family cannot be without an heir, so I could only place all my hopes on Jonathan. You understand me, right?”
A sharp buzz filled my ears. I stared at Javon in disbelief.
“What’s his name?”
He stiffened, then lowered his head, guilt written all over his face, unable to meet my gaze.
Jonathan. That was the name Javon and I had chosen together for our child, a name that carried the meaning of wholeness and fulfillment. For eight long years, I had yearned for that child.
Countless nights, I had wept, whispering Jonathan’s name into the dark, praying that my lost child would somehow return to me.
And now, he had given that sacred name to Cynthia’s child.
How could he… be this cruel?
“His name is Jonathan. Javon personally chose it, symbolizing completeness and fulfillment,” Cynthia replied softly, her face painted with false innocence.
I could no longer endure it.
They could torment me, they could wound me, but how could they trample on a mother’s love for her child?
Driven to madness, I lunged at Cynthia, wishing only to perish together with her.