Chapter 4

A hint of undeniable frustration laced Brock's cold, indifferent tone. "Maliyah, feel free to make any requests; I will agree to them. In return, you come to the hospital to care for Jamie. You know how busy I am; I can't possibly stay here and look after him constantly." I chuckled softly. "My only request has always been to expedite the divorce proceedings." Regarding Jamie, as my ex-wife, I can only suggest you find a caregiver for him as soon as possible.

I'm not sure which sentence angered Brock, but loud crashes from the phone indicated items being thrown. His furious, mocking voice followed. "Maliyah, do you really want to divorce me and make our son a child from a single-parent family?"

"How could it be?" I asked.

I gently reminded Brock of the loving woman silently waiting for him. "Ivy has always cared for Jamie; you could say she loves the house and its crows." Jamie, however, has always looked forward to Ivy becoming his mother. "As a father, you should have fulfilled that wish sooner," Brock said, clenching his fist and touching his forehead. "Are you really willing to hear your son call another woman 'Mom'?"

Without hesitation, I replied, "One hundred percent, willingly."

Three years ago, the Meng family's bankruptcy abroad forced Ivy's return home. Ignoring objections, Brock hired her as his personal secretary. Last Mother's Day, Jamie gave Ivy ninety-nine carnations and frequently skipped school to eat with her. They were, in fact, a real family. After realizing this, I simply had to keep living and moving forward.

Chapter 4

Brock, unusually talkative, rambled on. Too hungry and lazy to waste time, I impatiently said, "Next Monday, if you're unavailable to go to City Hall, we'll meet directly at the courthouse." I hung up, turned off the phone, and entered the restaurant.

Monday arrived. Brock never appeared. I hired a lawyer and entrusted him with the divorce.

A weekend evening, half a month later. In a field, wearing a straw hat, I watched the sunset. Gently tapping the girl beside me, I smiled. "Haylee, Grandma's probably finished cooking. Let's go home for dinner."

Haylee excitedly agreed, her hand in mine, holding freshly picked fruit. We ran home, laughing and talking. As we were about to share our day's adventures with Grandma, standing at the door, we noticed her unusual expression.

Following her gaze, I saw an unexpected guest in the living room: Jamie. Grandma hadn't seen him for years, but annually sent trembling messages urging me to send a family photo. She recognized him.

Though I'd never mentioned it, this woman, alone for half a century, possessed a sharp mind. When she asked me to take Haylee to wash the fruit, I understood. She nodded sadly, brushed a speck of dust from my cheek, and led Haylee away, her back hunched.