Chapter 978: A Tumble
On the Ferris wheel, Doyle and Besse felt awkward, despite being adults. They blushed at the slightest touch.
"I don't even know how to kiss," Doyle admitted, embarrassed.
Besse pursed her lips.
"I didn't even use my tongue," Doyle added, with regret.
Besse's blush deepened. Their first kiss had been gentle, but Doyle's comment left her speechless.
"How about we try again?" he asked seriously.
"Can you be serious?" Besse retorted.
"If I weren't, we'd have a lot of kids by now," he joked.
Besse averted her gaze, looking out at a family below—two children and their father. She made eye contact with the man; a familiar look in his eyes made her heart ache. But when she looked again, he’d turned away, his cold figure, obscured by a duck-billed hat and black mask, disappearing from view.
"Besse! What are you looking at?" Doyle leaned over, exclaiming, "Are you staring at those kids again?!"
She couldn't tell him she was looking at their father. He'd likely become angry.
"I can't wait anymore. We're having babies tonight!" he declared.
Besse rolled her eyes and withdrew her gaze.
The Ferris wheel reached the ground. Oscar carried Una, Salem followed, and Besse and Doyle trailed behind. But Doyle pulled Besse away, toward the opposite direction. As they turned, the little boy fell from the top of the stairs.
Oscar, burdened with Una, couldn't catch Salem. The boy tumbled down at least five steps. Oscar rushed to Una and Salem, but someone else reached them first, urgently asking, "How are you?"
Oscar's silent signal to his protectors dismissed them. He put down Una, squatting beside Salem with Besse to assess him.
Salem endured the pain silently, tears welling, but making no sound. He'd looked back at Besse earlier, sensing a difference between her and his father.
"Does it hurt?" Besse asked nervously.
After checking for injuries and finding no broken bones, Oscar sighed in relief.
"It should be okay," he said calmly.
Besse's anxiety was palpable.
"What do you mean 'it should be okay'?!" she exclaimed, her heart breaking at his father’s indifference. "How can you call yourself a parent?!"
Oscar was startled by her outburst.
"He's so young! Can't you keep an eye on him? Don't you see his injured knee? He's not 'okay'," Besse argued, her anger surprising even herself.
"Um... I'm fine," Salem said, frightened by Besse's intensity.
Besse looked at Salem, then back at Oscar. "Kids cry when they're hurt! Why did your son endure the pain silently after falling from such a height? It's not normal! Don't think he's more sensitive; he hasn't felt loved enough! He doesn't know who else can comfort him!"
Oscar stared at her fury. Curious onlookers watched. He remained silent, knowing she was right; he hadn't shown Salem enough love. He'd believed providing for him was enough.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I let you down again."
"Don't apologize to me, apologize to your son," Besse corrected.
Oscar looked at Salem. "That was an accident, don't blame my dad," the boy said.
"What have you done to him? Why is he so afraid of you?" Besse pressed.
Oscar couldn't explain.
"Why not take him to the hospital?" she urged.
"Okay," Oscar said, immediately scooping up Salem.
Salem, rarely hugged since age three, felt awkward in his father's arms.
"Are you coming with us?" Oscar asked Besse.
She almost agreed, but hesitated. She wasn't related, and Doyle might be angry. Doyle stood nearby, sullen.
"He's your son, shouldn't you take care of him?" Besse challenged Oscar.
He nodded.
"Still here?" Besse prompted.
"Today is Sal's birthday," Oscar said.
Besse, aware of this from the little girl earlier, was confused. "So you let him break his knee on his birthday?"
"Would you like to say 'happy birthday' to him?" Oscar asked.
Besse remained silent, and after a moment, Oscar said, "Right, then, we'll be off."
They left. Besse watched them go, her gaze fixed on the three figures. The setting sun stretched their shadows. She saw the bleakness and loneliness in them, especially in the father.