The sight of him like this deeply pained her.
She pressed her cheek against his, gently rubbing it as she said, "From now on, we'll be fine; I won't leave you."
Haoming had once said, "Don't leave me." She thought she finally understood. It must have been the memory of his heart-wrenching separation from his biological father that stirred these feelings.
She wouldn't leave him.
She gave him her promise.
As long as he was at peace, that was what mattered.
That night, she talked a lot with him, all about ordinary family matters. Initially, she lay on his back, whispering tenderly. Later, he pulled her into his embrace, leaning against his chest, and eventually, when he grew tired, she sat up, letting him rest his head on her lap.
They talked until the dawn of the next day. During the conversation, he struggled to squeeze out his words one by one. She thought a child who hadn't grown up must live in his heart, forever trapped in a childhood of losing loved ones.
