Peter had known all along. To him, that woman was his real mom.
I screamed. Cursed. Sobbed like a madwoman.
Stuart just looked at me with disgust.
Peter frowned—and walked away.
And that woman…
Her gaze burned into me, cold and condescending. Like she was looking at something pathetic. Something beneath her.
I shattered.
***
I thought I’d frozen to death in that shack.
But when I opened my eyes, I was wrapped in a warm, clean coat. My legs moved. My hands were pale and smooth. Strangers passing by glanced at me with admiration.
Dazed, I wandered for what felt like hours before it finally hit me—I had been reborn.
What day is it?
Heart pounding, I yanked open my bag, fingers shaking so badly I split a nail. Didn’t care. My eyes locked onto the phone screen.
[December 29, 2002.]
I stared at the numbers. Then, out of nowhere, laughter bubbled up. Tears followed.
If the street weren’t so empty, people would’ve thought I’d lost my mind.
This was the day I found Peter.
December 29—the day I chose as his birthday.
Twenty-four years. I had spent twenty-four years celebrating it for him.
***
A baby’s piercing cries rang out nearby.
Instinctively, I started walking toward the sound—then stopped. My eyes swept the surroundings.
Ah, it’s here.
This was where I found Peter.
Near my parents’ house. No other homes around, just empty fields. A shortcut home—my childhood hideout.
I used to think it was fate. That I was meant to find him.
But no.
Stuart had planned everything. He dumped Peter here, knowing I would be the one to take him in.
So it had already begun.
Fate had thrown me back to the turning point of my life.
