“I’m here to see Oliver. I’m his mother.”
The teacher’s eyebrows rose in surprise.” What? Oliver’s mom? But…… Isn’t Oliver’s mom right here right now?”
Her words shocked me, and following her gaze, I realized that Oliver was playing ball in the playground, accompanied by–Rachel? I felt the blood rush into my head all of a sudden. What was she doing here?
Ava growled inside me, “It’s this woman again, why is she shady. “But I forced myself to stay calm.” There has to be some kind of misunderstanding. I’m Oliver’s real mother.”
I held up his book bag as proof. “He left this at home today. I came to bring it to him.”
The teacher looked uncertain. “Let me check with Oliver.” She turned toward the playground. “Oliver! Could you come here for a
moment?”
My son stopped the ball at his feet and twisted his head happily, but upon seeing me, his expression immediately turned somber, such a stark difference that it broke my heart.
“Oliver, sweetie,” the teacher asked gently, “is this lady your mom?”
“Of course not,” Oliver said firmly, shaking his head, his boyish voice carrying across the playground.” Isn’t it obvious? My mom is beside me with me yeah. Rachel is my real mom. She’s the only mom I’ve got.”
The whispers started immediately. Parents waiting nearby began pointing and staring at me.
“Can you believe this woman?”
“Trying to pretend she’s Rachel’s son’s mother…”
“Some people are so delusional…”
My face went pale as I realized how this looked to everyone. In their eyes, I was some strange woman trying to insert myself into
Rachel’s perfect family.
The teacher cleared her throat awkwardly. “Perhaps there’s been a mistake…”
“Oliver,” she tried again, clearly wanting to be certain. “You’re sure about this?”
My son took the opportunity to unleash all his frustration. “Rachel is my real mom! My only mom! I don’t want anyone
else!”
2/3
She’s not my mom
Every word was like a knife in my heart. My hands trembled as I handed my bag to the teacher.
How had this happened? When had I lost so much ground that my own son would deny me in public? That strangers would look at me like I was trying to steal someone else’s child?
Some wounds go deeper than flesh. And this one, I wasn’t sure even a Head Healer could mend.
Whispers of “poor Rachel” and “crazy woman” buzzed around me, I didn’t know how I was supposed to prove my identity, was I going to have to go home and get my birth certificate? I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I turned around and prepared to leave the place that was embarrassing me.
