Chapter 3

Alyssa POV:

I let him lead me back into the hospital, my feet moving as if wading through cement. Every step felt like a betrayal of the woman who had fled this place in agony just an hour before. But I had to see. I had to see it all with my own eyes, now that the veil of deceit had been torn away.

The warmth I used to feel walking down this hall, the anticipation of seeing Joshua' s face, was gone. All that remained was a hollow, echoing ache.

As we neared the private lounge, I heard the sound of laughter. Bright, happy peals of it. It was Joshua. He was laughing with a carefree joy I hadn' t heard in months. A joy he never seemed to have when I was around.

Brad pushed the door open, a broad smile fixed on his face. "Look who I found wandering in the parking lot."

The scene inside was a perfect picture of domestic bliss. Jaime was sitting on the plush sofa, Joshua nestled in her lap, his head thrown back in laughter as she tickled his side. An open storybook lay beside them. They looked so natural, so right. A mother and her son.

When Joshua' s eyes landed on me, his smile vanished. It didn' t just fade; it snapped off, like a light being switched off. His body went rigid in Jaime' s arms.

"Oh," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "It' s you."

The joy in the room evaporated.

In the past, I would have rushed to him, my arms open, desperate for a hug that he would have reluctantly given. I would have knelt down, my heart aching, and asked him what was wrong, why he seemed so distant. I would have blamed myself, my job, my exhaustion.

Today, I just stood there, my hands clenched at my sides.

I remembered all the times I had held him when he cried out in the night from what I thought were phantom pains from his illness. I' d whisper promises into his hair, swearing to him that I would work harder, save faster, do anything to make him better. I would find the money, I vowed. Mommy will fix this.

And my reward for that devotion, for seven years of grueling, soul-crushing work, was not his love. It was his disgust.

He squirmed out of Jaime' s lap and edged away from me, hiding slightly behind her legs. The small movement was a rejection so profound it stole the air from my lungs. He was relieved that I wasn' t coming closer.

I clutched my purse, my knuckles white, fighting to keep my expression neutral. The mask of a calm, loving mother was the heaviest thing I had ever worn. I couldn' t even force a smile anymore. My face felt like stone.

"Joshua," I said, my voice sounding foreign and strained. "Won' t you say hello to Mommy?"

He peeked out from behind Jaime, his small face set in a pout. He shook his head, burying his face in her expensive-looking skirt. "Don' t wanna."

Jaime stroked his hair, her expression a perfect blend of sympathy and gentle chiding. "Josh, be nice. Your mom is tired. She works very hard for you." She shot me a look, one I used to interpret as supportive friendship. Now, I saw the glint of triumph in her eyes. The unspoken challenge.

"He' s just a little shy today," she said to me, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "He' s been a bit overwhelmed."

Shy? My son wasn' t shy with me. He was repulsed. I had seen it in his eyes.

I thought back to the day he was "diagnosed." I had been a terrified young mother, and Jaime had held my hand, promising to be there for us no matter what. I had been so grateful, so moved by her loyalty. I' d even joked through my tears that she' d have to be his godmother.

She hadn' t just become his godmother. She had become his mother. She had stolen my son from me, right under my nose, with cookies and Lego sets and a scent that didn' t remind him of death and decay.

Suddenly, Jaime gasped, a theatrical little sound. She lurched forward, knocking a bowl of fruit off the coffee table. Grapes and apple slices scattered across the pristine white floor.

"Oh, clumsy me!" she cried out.

Instantly, Brad was at her side, kneeling to help her. "Are you alright, honey?" he asked, his voice thick with a concern he had never once shown me when I' d come home with my own aches and injuries.

They knelt there together, a perfect team, cleaning up a mess she had created. Joshua rushed to help too, carefully picking up each grape as if it were a precious jewel.

I stood by the door, completely ignored. I was an outsider in my own family. A ghost in the life I had bled for.

I felt a cold, hard certainty settle in my chest. There was nothing left for me here.

"I have to go," I said, my voice flat.

Brad looked up, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Alyssa, don' t be like that. Just sit down."

But I was already turning away. I couldn' t breathe in that room for another second. It was suffocating me.

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