At school today, Vero's classroom was unusually crowded. Many parents had come to watch their children present their assignments in front of the class.
Amara, of course, sat in the very front row, waiting calmly for Vero's turn. For now, the boy was still beside her, his face slightly pale.
Vero was nervous because there were too many people.
"Hold Mommy's hand, sweetheart. And tell yourself everything will be alright." Amara gently held his hand, making the boy look at her without much expression.
"Auntie… if the result is bad, will you be angry?"
Amara slowly shook her head. "Why would I be angry? You will always be the champion in Mommy's heart, Vero. There is no star that shines brighter than you in Mommy's eyes."
Vero fell silent. Maybe this was his first time standing in front of so many people, facing his own fear.
After several of his classmates had already gone forward, it was finally his turn. The boy walked slowly to the front, standing before the crowd.
His hands held a rolled canvas containing a drawing he made a few days ago.
He froze for a moment. His face turned pale, and his voice seemed to stop working. But Amara kept encouraging him from the most visible seat in the room.
Vero opened his drawing. On it was a picture of a house. Yes — just a house, while many other students drew their parents.
---
Between the Two of You
Today my teacher said,
write about your parents.
So I tried.
My Daddy is easy to draw.
He sometimes fixes broken things.
Doors, lights, schedules, my homework mistakes.
He asks, "Have you studied?"
I say, "Yes."
He nods, as if that is enough.
When we walk together,
our shadows don't touch,
but they go in the same direction.
I think that is his way of caring.
My Mom is harder.
I don't remember her holding my hand when I first learned to walk.
I don't remember falling asleep on her shoulder.
I don't remember calling her anything.
But somehow I know the sound of quiet footsteps outside my door at night.
I know the feeling of someone watching,
making sure I keep breathing while I sleep.
I know why the lights stay on a little longer than they should.
People say love comes from memories.
Mine comes from waiting.
So if today I stand here
and my voice is small
when I say "Mommy,"
please understand,
my heart recognized her first
before my mouth learned how to say her name.
---
Amara's eyes filled with tears faster than she realized. Whether those were just words or Vero's true feelings, she could see a difference in his gaze.
"Wow, your mom brought you today? Where is she now?" the homeroom teacher asked.
"She is right in front of me… or more precisely, she is always by my side."
"Give your mom a hug, Vero."
Vero looked at Amara briefly before walking toward her seat. He hugged her while she was already crying.
Again and again Amara kissed her son's forehead. She was truly proud. Such a smart and kind child… he never deserved to suffer and lose his childhood.
"Mommy loves you, Vero. Mommy always loves you."
Her tears fell harder when Vero looked at her and softly said, "I love Mommy too."
It sounded like a long-awaited rain of happiness for Amara. For the first time, Vero called her Mommy.
After the event ended, Amara took Vero to buy ice cream and walked around the mall to buy the toy he wanted.
---
Two Days Later
Kaisar had been waiting at a luxurious restaurant for half an hour. His arms were crossed over his chest, repeatedly standing and sitting in boredom.
Their dinner had been postponed for two days. He had no idea what kept Amara so busy.
"Doctor Diamond, you're already here? Since when?" Amara had just arrived when she saw him at their reserved table. She glanced at her watch — she wasn't late.
It was still five minutes before eight.
"Don't tell me you've been here for a while. You're not that crazy, right?" she guessed.
"And now you're insulting me after making me wait for half an hour?"
Amara frowned slightly. "I'm not late. You came too early. Are you angry?"
Kaisar didn't answer. Amara pulled out her chair and sat down. Tonight she looked fresher than usual. Her typically neat bun was replaced by her natural dark-brown straight hair, paired with red lipstick. A dress slit above the knee still gave her an elegant and classy impression.
Amara was only thirty-five now — a mature age, not far from Kaisar's.
"Do you want me to order?" she asked.
"Alright…"
She began ordering until the waiter left to prepare the food.
"Why didn't you answer my calls or messages for two days? Did you forget me?" Kaisar asked.
"I was very busy." Amara smiled faintly, placing her phone on the table.
"You were busy, but your face says otherwise."
She smiled again. This was the first time she had smiled so much — her mood was genuinely good. She didn't feel offended even though Kaisar sounded like a lover interrogating her.
"Yes, I was busy. Busy making my child happy… want to hear good news?"
"Good news?"
"Vero called me Mommy!" Her smile widened. "He even agreed to go out with me. Yesterday we went to many places together."
"Really?" Kaisar straightened, genuinely happy.
Amara nodded. "So tonight I'll treat you to as much food as you want. Thanks to your therapy… he improved."
Kaisar smiled watching her happiness.
Soon their food arrived — a lot of dishes. Amara was clearly teasing him.
"I'm grateful… you two look much more alive now."
Amara nodded again.
"I remember I promised to take him somewhere. Did he ask about it?"
"No."
"Maybe he forgot. I'll remind him when we meet."
"Oh please… you want to take my son out just so I'll come too?" Amara said.
Kaisar smiled. "Bing… bong! Correct."
Amara shook her head and started eating, abandoning her usual elegance and eating more than usual.
"For the first time, food tastes good…" she smiled again.
"Eat more." Kaisar slid another plate toward her.
"You want me to get fat?"
"I want you healthy." His smile widened.
They quietly enjoyed the calm atmosphere. Kaisar still didn't mention his work result.
After she felt full, Amara leaned back. "I can't anymore…" She wiped her lips.
"I think we should have dinners like this sometimes."
"Hm?" She frowned slightly. "You still haven't talked about Richard. So what happened?"
"I think he's whining to his father right now…"
Amara could already imagine it. She had lived in prison for seven years — every day was harsh survival.
Now Richard was experiencing it himself.
---
Meanwhile, Richard's situation was getting worse. The inmates in his cell treated him like a toy.
No rest. No smiles. No breathing space. His legs remained bent while trying to sleep — he wasn't allowed to rest properly.
"Dad, I could die in here."
Richard's desperate voice trembled when Mr. Charlie came to visit. He had come almost every day for the past two days, and the bruises on his son's face were becoming harder to hide.
"Can't you ask the guards to move me to another cell? Please, Dad. I can't stay here."
His eyes filled with tears, looking at his father with a mix of fear and resentment.
"I did everything you asked. Then why are you leaving me in prison?" Richard asked.
"Stop whining and trying to contact me, Richard. You're a man!" Mr. Charlie snapped. "Do you think I'm not stressed? I'm doing everything I can!"
"You're not here, so you don't feel what I feel. You don't know how it feels to be treated like a toy," Richard spat back.
Mr. Charlie sighed, his expression hardening.
"A while ago Amara came with a man. Who is he? Do you know?" Richard asked, trying to shift the focus.
Mr. Charlie paused. "Yes. She met him several times, and I investigated his background."
"Who is he?"
"His family owns a major hospital group spread across several countries, headquartered in Germany. His parents live there. He's not ordinary…"
Richard's breath nearly stopped. No wonder Kaisar's gaze that day felt so predatory.
"Unfortunately… he's the young doctor who handled your uncle's corpse seven years ago."
"What? That means he knows everything?" Richard was paralyzed with shock.
"He knows more than enough, Richard. He could be a major threat to me and our plans."