“Sir, should I put this away?” The nurse noticed the crumpled edge of my newspaper.
20:12
“No need.” I folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. The organ donation charade had been a complete success, so succe-
ssful that even I almost believed the proxy lying in the morgue was truly me. Before this, I had intended to end my life after donati-
ng my organs, to join my son in the next world. However, fate had taken an unexpected turn–the wealthy man who received my
kidney turned out to be my long–lost maternal grandfather.
My grandfather, learning of Leo’s tragic death and my betrayal, was filled with remorse. He transferred all his family assets to me and arranged for the best recovery facility, allowing me to heal in peace. With that money, I paid off Valerie’s debt and brought my
son’s body home, burying him on a hillside covered in wildflowers.
Three months passed, and I still wasn’t used to this newfound peace. My right hand instinctively went to my abdomen, where the surgical scar remained–a testament to the organ donation, and a mark of my farewell to the past.
“Mr. Thorne, time for your dressing change,” the nurse gently reminded, pulling me from my thoughts. I nodded, but didn’t immedia- tely rise. The same sparrow had returned to the window, a tiny twig in its beak, busily building a nest in the maple tree. This new life, fragile yet full of hope, was like that bird’s nest, slowly taking shape.
“Sir?” The nurse called again.
“Just five more minutes.” I traced the faint ring mark on my ring finger. “I want to watch this bird finish its nest.”
Just then, a flurry of hurried footsteps shattered the tranquility of the garden. Before I could turn, a familiar scent enveloped me from behind, pulling me into a tight embrace. A faint, almost imperceptible fragrance, and that trembling breath–even after all this time, my body instantly recognized her.
“Caleb! You’re alive… Thank heavens, you’re alive!” Valerie’s voice seemed to come from a great distance, choked with a sob I had
never heard from her before.
I slowly pried her hands from my waist, turning to face the woman I had once loved so deeply. She was thin, her cheekbones protr- uding, dark circles etched beneath her eyes. Her expensive cashmere coat was splattered with mud, and several of her right finge-
rnails were broken.
“Valerie.” My voice was so calm it sounded alien even to me. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Her pupils constricted sharply, as if my coldness had pierced her. But quickly, she lunged forward again, grabbing my arm. “I’ve ma- de Jasper pay! His art exhibition has been canceled, all his sponsors have pulled out, and now he owes ten times more than what we owed him!” I noticed the careful way she said “we,” as if the word were a fragile, precious thing. Her nails dug into my flesh. “L
noticed
found the evidence of him ordering his bodyguards to unleash the dogs! I promise you, he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison!”
