Chapter5
My father’s brow furrowed deeply, the anger in his eyes gradually giving way to confusion.
He looked down at me-just a helpless infant, soft and fragile. How could I possibly have caused such an
injury?
Sensing his doubt, Linda immediately began to cry, tears streaming like a tragic heroine in an old
melodramay.
“Mr. Lawson, I swear I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why, but from the very first day, your baby has hated me. No matter how I coax her, she just cries and fusses. Tonight after feeding, I was only trying to burp her, and she suddenly… suddenly bit me with all her strength. I was caught off guard, and almost lost my grip.”
She sobbed while sneaking glances at my father’s face, gauging his reaction.
“Mrs. Lawson can vouch for me. These past days I’ve worked hard, I’ve never had any ill intentions.”
From her bed, Grandma chimed in, “She’s right, Michael. Linda has been nothing but good to us. It’s just that the baby’s been fussy these last few days. Maybe… maybe they just don’t get along.”
My father held me in silence.
On one side stood a nanny who seemed honest and hardworking, now claiming she had been wronged. On the other was his daughter, crying, fussy, acting oddly.
He couldn’t make sense of it.
At that moment, the master bedroom door opened.
My mother stepped out, likely drawn by the raised voices.
Her eyes swept the room-over Linda’s tear-streaked face, over me in my father’s arms, finally resting on his troubled frown.
“What happened?” she asked.
My father briefly explained what had happened.
Mother listened without expression, then cast Linda a single, cool glance.
Linda seized the chance, her sobs turning more pitiful. “Mrs. Lawson, I swear I didn’t mean it. Maybe…
maybe you should dismiss me. I’m afraid if I stay, I’ll end up hurting the baby again.”
The same ploy, back down now so others will plead for her to return.
All
eyes turned to my mother.
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To them, she was the mistress of the house, the child’s mother. The one who held the right to decide.
My tiny heart pounded. Who would she believe?
In my last life, she had trusted Linda completely. In this one, she treated me with nothing but coldness.
The answer seemed obvious.
Mother was silent for a long moment. Just as I braced for her to defend Linda, her calm voice cut through the
tension.
“If it’s not working out, then leave.”
Her tone was quiet-but firm.
Everyone froze.
Even Linda forgot to let her tears fall, staring at my mother in shock. “Mrs. Lawson, you…
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But my mother didn’t look at her. She turned instead to my father. “Pay her what she’s owed. I want her gone tonight.”
“Charlotte…” My father hesitated. “Isn’t this too hasty? Where are we going to find another nanny so suddenly? Mother’s still not well-”
“I’ll take care of her.”
Her words were sharp and final, leaving no room for argument.
Then, under everyone’s stunned gaze, she stepped forward-toward me-and stretched out her arms.
It was the first time since my birth that she had willingly asked to hold me.
My heart pounded wildly, caught between hope and fear.
My father blinked, then carefully placed me into her arms.
Her movements were stiff, clumsy, almost awkward. Her embrace lacked the warmth of my father’s or Grandma’s; it carried a chill, unfamiliar air.
But the moment she held me, I pressed my tiny cheek against her chest and clung close.
Her body went rigid.
I could hear the frantic thud of her heart-pounding, stumbling, torn between conflict and struggle.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fuss. I simply nestled quietly in her arms, greedy for this long-awaited, desperately craved mother’s love.
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Linda was dumbstruck.
She could not fathom how this woman, who had treated me with such distance, would suddenly change her
mind.
My father, though puzzled, chose to believe in his wife. He quickly pulled a few bills from his wallet and handed them over. “Linda, here’s your pay for the past days. Please understand.”
Linda stared at the money, her face shifting between pale and flushed, her eyes burning with resentment.
Her glare fell on me, nestled in my mother’s embrace.
Hatred hardened her gaze, as if she wanted to tear me apart.
At last, she snatched up the money, packed her things in silence, and left without a backward glance.
The door shut. The apartment grew still again.
My father exhaled in relief. He looked at me and my mother, smiling softly. “Charlotte, you finally held her. Look-she’s calm now, not crying at all in your arms.”
Mother didn’t answer. She only lowered her gaze, watching me with eyes filled with turmoil and emotions I couldn’t read.
After a long silence, she sighed.
Then she turned and carried me back toward the master bedroom.
“Tonight, she’ll sleep beside me.”
Chunters
