The fifth year after my son’s birth, the stark truth finally hit me: my wife didn’t love me or our boy. To escape that miserable marriage, I decided to take our son and leave. Fate, however, had other plans. A car crash. I lost a kidney, and my son, an eye. In my despair, my usually aloof wife knelt before me, publicly begging for forgiveness, promising to be our rock for life. My son and I decided to give her a hundred-day trial. If she passed, we’d stay forever. But on the ninety-ninth day… My son and I stumbled upon my wife talking to the lead doctor. “Ms. Cliff, was it really worth it, deliberately causing that accident to save Mr. Vance’s child, and then taking organs from your husband and young master?” “It was worth it. As long as Steve is happy, I’d do anything.” “What if your husband and young master find out?” Ms. Cliff fell silent, her hand instinctively going to her wedding ring. Her voice, when it came, was chillingly calm. “Then they must never know. All they want is a home, don’t they? I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to them.” So, her supposed change of heart was just a meticulously crafted deception. The happiness my son and I thought we had found was a dream she’d spun to protect the one she truly cherished. Every gift, it turned out, came with a hidden price. 1 The office hummed with a sterile quiet as Clara Cliff meticulously reviewed the report the doctor handed her. A heavy weight lifted from her chest. “Sterling’s eye works wonderfully. Knowing Vance can be discharged now, I feel much better.” The doctor bristled, unable to hold back a reminder. “Ms. Cliff! Mr. Vance, as good a friend as he may be, is not your husband. You privately took an organ from your own son for him. If that were discovered, this entire hospital would be shut down. Is this truly worth it?” Clara’s gaze hardened. She slapped the report down on the desk. “Enough. It’s not your place to dictate what I do. Steve only has Sterling. How could I bear to just watch? It’s just an eye, after all. It doesn’t affect his life.” The doctor, enraged, challenged her directly. “Ms. Cliff, can you guarantee your husband and son will never know the truth? What will you do if they find out you almost killed them for Mr. Vance?” Clara fell silent. She pulled out her phone and gazed at the happy family photo on her wallpaper, her eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. “They won’t know. I’ve hidden it well. And…” She extinguished the screen, her voice filled with a chilling certainty. “Julian and Caleb, they love me very much.” My hand, clutching my son’s, tightened. A bone-deep chill ran through me, shaking me uncontrollably. I still remember that day, my six-year-old son lying in the ICU bed, asking me with a blank stare, “Daddy, where’s my left eye? Why is it gone?” That day, I cried until my voice was hoarse, until my body convulsed, even wishing I could just die. I hated myself for taking my son away. Hated myself for not protecting him. Hated myself for being an unfit father. But it turned out, the one I should hate most was Clara Cliff. My son, too, clamped his hand over his mouth, unable to believe that the person who’d cost him his eye was his own mother. Clara closed the report, her voice bright with anticipation. “Since Steve and his boy are recovering well, they should be back soon. Arrange it. And remember, never let Julian find out.” Footsteps approached. My son and I scrambled to hide. But it was too late. Clara had seen us. “Julian? Caleb? What are you doing here?” 2 Clara’s voice was a frantic whisper, her breath catching in her throat with tension. My son and I exchanged a look, silently wiping away our tears. I took a deep breath, then turned, calm on the surface. “We came looking for you, figuring you’d been taking forever with that report. We got a bit lost, almost went the wrong way.” A sigh of relief escaped her, a smile almost touching her lips before my next words froze her. “What’s that in your hand? Is it my son’s and my medical report?” I stepped closer, reaching out to take it, my eyes fixed on her face. Clara’s gaze flickered, and she tucked the report behind her back. “We…we can look at it at home. No rush.” Watching her lips, now pale with anxiety, a flicker of sarcasm crossed my eyes. I withdrew my hand and, taking Caleb, turned to leave. Clara paused, then hurried to catch up, scooping Caleb into her arms. Just like she had for the past ninety-nine days, with tender affection. But Caleb didn’t wrap his arms around her neck as he usually did. His body was stiff, his eyes distant. Clara, oblivious, held him until we were in the car. It was only when she was checking his car seat that she spoke, seemingly casually. “Honey, do you remember Steve Vance? His boy was sick before, right? He’s all better now and preparing to come back to the country. He doesn’t have much family here. I was thinking, maybe he and his son could stay with us for a few days?” She watched my expression, adding, “Of course, it was just a thought. If you or Caleb object, then we won’t.” “I don’t mind. Bring them home.” Clara paused, then a smile quickly spread across her face. “Thank you, darling. You’re so kind. It’s my blessing to be married to you.” I didn’t smile. I just climbed into the back seat, pulling Caleb into my embrace. A tear flashed in my eye, unseen. Back home, Clara immediately found an excuse to leave. I knew she was rushing to arrange Steve Vance’s return. I used the opportunity to talk with Caleb. I wanted to take him away, as far from this sickening home as possible, never to see Clara again. Caleb didn’t object. He just silently tore up the diary on his desk. It chronicled every day since the accident, of Clara with us. Day 1 of the accident, my eye was gone. I asked Daddy where it fell, but Daddy just cried and didn’t say anything. Mommy cried too. She hugged me for the first time and said she would be my eyes from now on. Day 3 of the accident, Mommy came to take care of Daddy and me every day. She said she loved Daddy and me very, very much, and wanted to be our support for the rest of our lives. I told her I loved her very, very much too. Mommy cried again. Day 21 of the accident, I was discharged. Ethan found out my secret and all the kids at kindergarten started calling me ‘one-eyed freak.’ They said I was disgusting and wouldn’t play with me anymore. I cried in the storage room for a long time. But it’s okay, Daddy and Mommy love me very much. Day 25 of the accident, Dr. Sterling gave me a toy eye. Mommy said no one would make fun of me anymore. I showed the eye to Ethan and told him I wasn’t disgusting. But Ethan poked my eye with a pencil and said I was a monster, that my eye couldn’t hurt. … Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I hugged Caleb close, my heart breaking, and sobbed. “Caleb, Daddy will take you away, okay?” My son touched his cold, prosthetic eye, his eyes red, and nodded. “Okay.” 3 I set my phone to a twenty-four-hour countdown. Time to pack. Every moment we stayed was another wound to my son. Countdown: twenty-one hours. I took Caleb to kindergarten to complete the withdrawal process. At the principal’s office, I was about to knock when I heard a familiar voice from inside. “Is…is Sterling doing okay? Does his eye still bother him?” Steve Vance chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “The doctor said Sterling is recovering beautifully, and the eye feels very comfortable. Clara, I really owe you so much.” Clara curved her lips, her smile genuine. “As long as you’re happy, I’d do anything.” Steve glanced at her, then said meaningfully, “What about your husband? If he knew Sterling was using Caleb’s eye, wouldn’t he be upset? Clara, I don’t want to cause you any trouble.” His familiar tone made me want to vomit. Steve Vance had always been like this—taking all the benefits yet pretending to be utterly innocent, making people fall over themselves to please him. Five years ago, on my son’s first birthday, Steve, whose birthday wasn't even that day, deliberately posted about celebrating alone on social media to steal Clara’s attention. She abandoned my son and me at the birthday party, running off to spend the entire night with him. Before she left, I begged her to wait, at least to finish the party with our son. But she, worried about Steve’s loneliness, simply handed Caleb to a waiter and told me not to cause a scene. My eyes welled up. I was about to leave when the tardy principal walked past me and pushed the door open. Seeing my son and me, a flicker of panic crossed Clara’s eyes. “When did you arrive? Why didn’t you knock?” Noticing my gaze on Steve Vance, she quickly explained. “Darling, don’t misunderstand. I only just found out Steve had already brought Sterling back. We just ran into each other, and I was just helping them register for kindergarten, you…” “I understand.” I cut her off, turning with my son. Steve Vance, however, called out to me with a confident, sunny smile. “Julian, long time no see.” He pulled the little boy next to him forward and introduced him to my son. “Caleb, this is your older brother, Sterling. Say hello. You two have a special connection.” The boy leaned in, staring curiously at my son’s eye. Then, with a look of distaste, he said, “Daddy, his eye is fake. It’s disgusting.” Caleb’s face instantly paled, and he shrank behind me, ashamed. My whole body trembled with fury. But Clara, perfectly timed, stepped in front of Steve Vance and said awkwardly, “Darling, don’t be angry. Sterling didn’t mean it. He’s just a child, he doesn’t understand anything. We adults don’t need to argue with a child, do we?” Her words were entirely in defense of Steve Vance’s son. Caleb stared at her blankly, disbelief in his eyes. Just yesterday, Clara had flown into a rage over a single mocking word directed at our son. Now, she was brazenly protecting the person who had mocked him. It seemed that with a different person, her attitude changed completely. At that thought, the light in my son’s eyes dimmed. I had no more patience. I took Caleb’s hand and left. Clara was left staring frantically at our retreating backs until Steve Vance called her name four or five times before she reluctantly came back to herself. Countdown: nineteen hours.
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