Chapter 1007: Tears
The arts festival performances captivated everyone. Even Susan, usually restless, sat quietly, mesmerized.
"Isn't that Una? She played the piano solo?" Susan asked, pointing to the girl onstage.
"Mhm," Oscar replied.
All eyes were on the little girl. Una, in a white princess dress and crown, sat poised beside the piano. Bathed in light, she began to play.
The four-year-old's melodious performance held the audience spellbound. A hush fell; everyone feared disturbing the enchanting music.
The song ended. Una's timid bow was met with thunderous applause.
"Una plays so well!" Susan exclaimed. "She's only four! Imagine how amazing she'll be later."
Oscar smiled proudly.
"Manuel, our baby can't lag behind! Piano, chess, calligraphy, painting—they need to learn everything!" Susan felt a surge of anxiety.
Manuel chuckled. "If they're anything like you, we can't force them."
"Why not?"
"It's pointless. Didn't you learn enough as a child?"
"Manuel, you're being sarcastic!"
"Shh. The show's starting again."
Susan glared, then refocused on the stage, secretly vowing to raise a child with a 200 IQ.
The final performance approached. Besse, Susan, Manuel, and Oscar were all nervous. Then, Salem appeared, a spotlight illuminating the darkened stage.
He wore a small black suit and bow tie. His handsome face and aristocratic demeanor stunned the audience.
Salem's sweet voice filled the auditorium: "My mom is the best mom in the world. She's beautiful, kind, and gentle. When I'm helpless, she encourages me. When I'm hurt, she teaches me bravery. And when I cry, she gives me a warm embrace..." The room fell silent.
His recitation was simple yet profoundly moving.
"But..." Salem paused, his voice catching slightly. The pause seemed both emotional and calculated. The audience held its breath.
"But," he continued, "these are just my imagined versions of my mother, because I've never actually met her!"
The audience gasped. He'd spoken so vividly, only to reveal it was all imagined, an idealized hope.
"Where is my mother? Who is she? What does she look like?" Salem asked, then answered himself: "Later, Dad told me Mom is always with me; she lives inside my heart, inside my sister's heart, and inside Dad's heart too. Dad said Mom will always be with us as we grow up."
Many parents wept. Salem's sincerity, his innocent perspective, resonated deeply. He didn't strive for melodrama; his honesty was all the more powerful.
Susan cried silently.
"Mama," Salem whispered, his voice choked with emotion. Tears flowed throughout the audience.
"No matter where you are, Mama, I love you!"
He bowed deeply. Thunderous applause erupted, culminating the festival. Parents shouted, "You're amazing!" "Your mom would be proud!" "Keep going, sweetheart!"
The applause continued. Oscar's group left through a special passage, returning to the car.
Susan sobbed, imagining Hannah there. Manuel was speechless, heartbroken by Salem's recitation; his eyes were red-rimmed, mirroring Oscar and Besse's.
"Don't cry," Manuel said, pulling Susan into his arms.
"Manuel, we can't let our child have a single-parent family. Salem..." She wept again.
Manuel patted her head, glancing at Oscar and Besse, whose silent grief was palpable.
The phone rang. Oscar answered.
"Commander, the Coopers and children have arrived. Shall we send them to your yard?"
"No, we'll eat first, same place."
"Yes."
After hanging up, Oscar said, "After lunch, I'll take you back." It was a statement, not a question, fearing Besse's refusal.
Besse nodded, her desire to see Salem again intensified. Oscar breathed a sigh of relief.
The car pulled up to an upscale restaurant, nearly deserted. They entered a private room where Miguel and Michelle were already with their children. Seeing Oscar's group, Miguel and Michelle froze, noticing Besse, who was engrossed in texting.