Chapter 26
Feeling my weakened legs about to collapse, I slumped onto the wooden bench like a melted candle.
As I sat down wearily, a mother carrying her one-year-old child passed in front of me. The mother was wearing a pale yellow sundress, and her hair was carelessly swept into a bun at her nape. The proof of tiring, sleepless nights was visibly written all over her gentle face. Despite that, she was beautiful and content with life alongside her child. Her inner happiness reflected in her face. Each time her gaze dropped to the child's face in her arms, her eyes twinkled with warmth and affection that every devoted mother could relate to.
The little boy giggled as the mother affectionately rubbed her nose against his. I both reveled in and ached at the sight.
The mother entered the door of an upscale establishment that sold baby clothes. She was out of my sight now, but I was still staring at the spot where I had last seen her.
I imagined myself as her, holding Dylan in my arms and hearing him giggle as I rubbed my nose against his, and suddenly tears blurred my vision.
My son was the same age as the boy when he was taken away from me. It had been two long years, but the same shot of pain still hit me hard.
As though the car accident had just happened yesterday, the scene played in my mind as clearly and vividly as a movie on a screen.
It was Dylan's first birthday.
Grey hadn't come home that night. In fact, he'd been away on a business trip for the past three weeks, and not seeing him for that long felt like not seeing him for a decade.
I called his office, and his secretary answered. She confirmed he had returned from the business trip and was in his office to collect some important documents he would review at home.
He hadn't called me that day. I didn't even receive a message. Maybe he ran out of battery. Grey wasn't the type to spend time on his phone, so I completely understood why he hadn't reached out yet.
I put on a silk pink dress. It was an off-shoulder style that I thought was too low-cut, as it displayed half of my thighs, but I knew Grey loved how I looked in that dress, so I wore it, thinking to surprise him in his office with Dylan. We could then go to a fancy restaurant to celebrate our son's birthday.
It had been a wonderful night filled with bliss, but things quickly went downhill.
I put Dylan in his baby seat and kissed him on the cheek, not knowing it would be the last time I would see and hold him in my arms.
I drove the car at a normal speed, watching Dylan play in the backseat from time to time. I hadn't been driving for long when I spotted a black Chevrolet behind me. It seemed like a coincidence at first, but when it didn't overtake my car, even though it had the chance, I suddenly became suspicious.
My sharp instincts warned me of an approaching danger.
With a powerful urge to protect Dylan, I pulled the car to the side of the road where the black Chevrolet had no chance of harming us. I would pretend I didn't see the car and let it pass ahead. Once it did, I would turn the car in the opposite direction and use another route.
I was maneuvering the car to the side of the road when the black Chevrolet sideswiped my car. The impact whirled my car in the middle of the road, and I screamed in shock, trying to press the brake, which at that moment refused to function properly.
Dylan's fearful cries filled my ears. The sound of his terrified voice sent shivers down my spine. Even now, the memory of his scream still haunts me.
Tears blurred my vision, and I turned to prayers to save our lives as the ear-piercing sound of horns tore through the night's silence.
At that moment, if I had known what would happen, I shouldn't have brought my son with me. The sound of a car screeching to a halt pierced through my ears. But it was all too late.
Wham!
The last thing I remembered was my head slamming against the airbag and my vision fading as spiraling darkness sucked me in.
The sound of hurried steps and panicky voices woke me up. Still dazed and wincing with pain from my injuries, I tried to make out the jumble of words coming from all around me. It took me some time to understand what was going on. When I did, I wished I had never woken up at all.
Dylan was trapped in the passenger seat.
I could barely feel any pain at all, even though I was bleeding everywhere, as I forced myself to get up from the stretcher while screaming my son's name.
"Please calm down, ma'am," a paramedic said, forcing me to lie down.
"No, my son's still in the car!" I sobbed, pushing her away with force. But I was so weak that it wasn't enough to drive her away.
Just as I was about to get up again, an ear-shattering explosion deafened my ears. The car where Dylan was trapped was swallowed in flames and turned upside down until it was barely visible amid the dark smoke surrounding it.
Helpless, I watched my son die in flames.
The incident happened two years ago, but the same shot of pain still numbed my heart.
Children are expected to live longer than their parents, but in my case, my son died before me. And what pains me the most is the thought that he died a miserable death.
I would never hold him in my arms again.
Tears blurred my vision as memories flowed through me. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I got up from the bench as I realized passersby were looking at me now.
Quickly, I left the bench and continued walking without a particular destination in mind. I still couldn't go home right now looking like this. Mom would sense something was wrong and would beg me to tell the truth. I didn't want her to worry. She should focus on her recovery instead of me.
I was crossing the street when suddenly, a car on the side pulled into the road. It was the only car in sight. Expecting it to slow down, I crossed on the pedestrian lane with long but slow steps. The car suddenly increased in speed, nearly running me down. With a startled cry, I ran to the side of the road and jumped onto the cement pavement for safety. I landed on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
The car was nowhere to be seen now, but I was still on my knees, shocked by what had just happened.
Taking a deep breath, I summoned my trembling legs to get up and gather my belongings, which I had carelessly tossed as I jumped away from the car's path.
There was something familiar about that black Chevrolet. I thought to myself while dusting off the dirt from my clothes.
Suddenly, it hit me. The car was the same Chevrolet that sideswiped my car two years ago, resulting in a fatal accident.
Who was the one behind the wheel?
It took me minutes to calm myself after that discovery. Whoever wanted to kill me two years ago was making a move again.
The fear I felt turned into rage. Whoever was driving the black Chevrolet was responsible for my son's death. Whoever that is, I'll soon find out. I'm not going down without a fight. After losing everything, I have nothing more to lose now.