To Amara, were those just things we were meant to lose?
My son and I had been nothing more than pawns in her petty war with Laurence.
In this cruel game where I had traded heart for heart, it turned out that only my son and I had lost everything.
If that was the case, then we no longer needed her.
I wiped away the tears clinging to my lashes and pushed open the hospital room door.
The moment my son saw the chicken sandwiches I had brought, his face lit up with a bright smile.
But that joy lasted only seconds; just two bites in, his expression twisted in pain and he suddenly began to retch.
At first, I thought he had burned his mouth, but he weakly waved his tiny hand.
“Dad, I think I’m still sick. I feel nauseous and my stomach hurts.”
I quickly tucked the blanket tighter around him and turned to get the doctor.
But as I stepped into the pediatric wing, what I saw froze me in place.
Amara and Laurence were rushing in, faces pale with panic.
And trailing behind them was her father, supposedly long dead.
The three of them looked visibly shaken. Amara’s voice trembled as she clutched the doctor’s arm.
“Doctor, please, you have to save my son! He’s only five! How could he have such a disease?!”