Chapter 330
After ou unexpected success in the tennis ball game, Billy was practically bouncing with excitement. He tagged at both our hands, drawing toward the next activity area.
“Come on! Our next game starts in five minutes! We need to hurry!”
I glanced at the activity schedule in Billy’s hand.
The next competition was listed as “Paper Cup Water Relay My stomach immediately knotted with anxiety.
Another team activity requiring intimate contact? This day was turning into my personal nightmare.
The teacher’s voice rang out across the playground, explaining the rules: “For this event, each family member will have a paper cup. The first person fills their cup with water, then–using only their mouth to hold the cup–transfers the water to the second person’s cup. The second person does the same for the third, who then carries their cup to the collection container. After three minutes, whichever team has collected
the most water wins!”
I cringed inwardly.
This was essentially the same concept as the tennis ball game, but with significantly higher stakes. If we failed at the tennis ball game, we’d simply start over. But with this one–now in winter–getting water on our clothes would be genuinely uncomfortable.
As other families gathered and took positions, Billy and Henry huddled together, discussing strategy.
“I should go first, I announced, interrupting their conference. “Billy second, Henry last.”
There was no way I would position myself between them again. The physical contact with Henry during the last game had been unsettling enough.
“I object!” Henry responded immediately.
“Me too!” Billy chimed in with equal conviction.
I stared at them, bewildered by their unified front. “Why not? I have the right to choose!”
Henry’s eyes swept over me with undisguised contempt. “Do you understand anything about strategy?” he asked coldly. “Is refusing to follow the plan and potentially losing the competition your son cares about so much how you show love for him?”
His words completely infuriated me.
An irresponsible father questioning my love for my son? It felt like a slap in the face.
“I don’t love my child?” My voice rose with indignation. “Who’s been with him every day version of love–being absent for six years?”
for years? Who raised him? What exactly is your
I could tolerate many things from Henry, but questioning my devotion to Billy was crossing a line,
The familiar anger began building inside me, hot and dangerous.
Henry saw my growing fury and quickly cut me off. “Let’s stick to today’s issue! We’re only discussing this compet
ht now.
Before I could respond, Billy stepped between us, his little hand raised, “I want to win!” he pleaded, his eyes fixed on mine. “Mom, could you please make a tiny sacrifice for me? Just this once?”
The desperation in his voice stopped me cold. Since moving to Betty’s home, Billy’s opportunities to see Henry had diminished significantly.
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I knew my son yearned for his father’s attention–sometimes I’d catch him asking James or Mark the linusekenper about Haryan
In fact, what I didn’t know was that Billy had been secretly watching Henry from afar, never letting his father know he was there
Just last night, when Billy had confirmed Henry would attend today event, he’d been so excited he could barely steap
“Mom,” Billy continued, his voice softer now, Dad finally came to one of my school activities. Can you both please not fight? Can we just get along? Please?
His eyes–those beautiful, innocent eyes–gazed up at me with such yearning and vulnerability that my heart began to ach
I suddenly remembered why Billy had gotten into that fight weeks ago–because another child had called him unwanted and unloved by his parents. My anger evaporated, replaced by overwhelming guilt.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Okay.”
Henry’s expression remained neutral, as if he’d anticipated this outcome all along.
For the rest of the competition, I followed Henry’s instructions without question. I became an obedient robot, executing his strategy without offering a single opinion or speaking a single word.
If this was what Billy needed, then I could swallow my pride for a few hours.
Billy threw himself into the game with unprecedented enthusiasm. His little crush, Emily, cheered for him from the sidelines, her pigtails bouncing as she jumped up and down shouting his name.
When Billy presented Emily with the magic wand he’d worked so hard to win, her face lit up with delight. She threw her arms around him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Billy, you’re amazing! I like you so much!” she declared.
Billy beamed with pride, his chest puffing out. With surprising boldness, he returned the gesture, kissing her cheek in response.
Emily’s parents watched the interaction with amused smiles. They knew the children were good friends who often played together, and they viewed the innocent cheek–kissing with appropriate lightness.
At this age, friendship was pure–without any calculation or self–interest.
Emily’s mother recognized me from previous school events, but this was her first time seeing Henry. She couldn’t help but stare appreciatively at the tall, handsome man beside me.
“Billy’s mom,” she commented, “your husband is incredibly handsome–even better looking than on TV.”
Worried that Emily’s father might take offense at his wife admiring another man, she gave her a gentle nudge.
“Mrs. Miller, what are you saying? Shouldn’t Mr. Miller be the most handsome man in your eyes and heart?”
Emily’s mother instantly realized her mistake and quickly looped her arm through her husband’s. ‘Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right! My husband is the most handsome!”
Mr. Miller’s face softened into a satisfied smile as he took his wife’s hand, interlacing their fingers. And you, my woman in my world.”
re the most beautiful
Emily, hearing her father’s sweet words, campered between her parents and grabbed both their hands. Looking up at me, she announced proudly: “Mrs. Wilson, my daddy is the handsomest, and my mommy is the prettiest!”
This sparked Billy’s competitive spirit. He ran over to me, grabbed my hand, then took Henry’s, and brought them together. With his small
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fingers, he wrapped both our hands in his.
“In my heart,” he proclaimed to Emily’s family, “we’re all the most beautiful family! My dad is the coolest in the universe, my mom is the most beautiful in the whole world, and I’m the handsomest baby. No arguments allowed!”
The four adults exchanged glances and burst into laughter at the children’s innocent declarations.
Throughout this exchange, Henry continued holding my hand, never letting go.
The warmth from his palm spread across the back of my hand, creating the strangest sensation–like fire slowly burning through my skin.
I tried several times to pull away, but each attempt was smoothly countered by Henry.
His grip was strong enough that I could barely withdraw
my
hand.
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