I Ran Away With My Son

John rushed into the hospital while drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

He saw me sitting at the morgue door. His steps faltered, and he dared not come closer.

Mom stormed over and slapped him hard.

“You beast! If you’d answered your phone, would my husband be dead?”

With reddened eyes, John crouched in front of me and clutched my leg.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry... It’s all my fault, my phone was off... I’m sorry...”

I looked at the tears streaming down his face and felt nothing but disgust.

I did not have the energy to expose him. I simply turned away with indifference.

The sobs behind me grew louder, but I never looked back.

After Dad died, John lost his mind trying to make it up to me.

He gave Dad a grand funeral, then brought Mom to the villa to retire in comfort.

He turned down countless work matters and spent his days with me and Jason.

Jason was still young. He did not understand how much wrong John had done, so he grew ever closer to him.

Seeing Jason nestled in John’s arms while sweetly calling him Dad left me aching inside.

That night, I could not help asking, “Jason, if you had to choose between Dad and Mom...”

Before I could finish, he shouted, “I choose Mom!”

I burst into tears and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then, I called a lawyer to draft the divorce papers.

The lawyer worked quickly. By the next day, the documents had arrived.

John fetched the parcel and handed it to me with a smile.

“Your package came. I signed for it. From now on, I’ll handle them for you.”

I took the envelope. Seeing it still sealed, I breathed easier.

“Why are you so tense?”

“Just some shopping receipts.”

Sensing my evasiveness, grief flickered in his eyes.

He turned back to the kitchen and cooked us a lavish meal before leaving for work.

Watching his lonely back, my heart still ached uncontrollably.

Once, we had loved so deeply, yet we had come to this.

While I was lost in thought, Jason’s screams tore through the dining room.

“Mom! Mom! My throat...”

I rushed out and saw Jason writhing in agony on the floor while clutching his throat, his face swollen blue.

I looked at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate. Inside it was a mango.

Jason was allergic to mangoes, yet his own father had not known.

Trembling, I rushed him to the hospital. Images of my father’s death flashed before my eyes. I could not let history repeat itself.

Thankfully, Jason was safe. The doctor said we had brought him in just in time.

Relieved, I collapsed outside the examination room.

I caught sight of a familiar figure.

John held Stacy as they entered the obstetrics ward. She caressed her still-flat belly, smiling sweetly.

The hot soup in my hands spilled, scalding me with blisters, but I felt no pain.

I stood frozen, staring after them as they vanished.

A passing woman nudged her husband with a sigh.

“Look at that, he goes with his wife to every checkup. And you?

“Ah, I really envy her. Her husband spoils her so much, he even pays for special access so she won’t stand too long.”

Chastised, the man muttered, pointing discreetly at me, “At least I’m better than some. Look at that lady, rushing her kid to the ER alone while her husband’s nowhere to be seen. Compared to him, I’m doing well.”

I listened in silence, nails biting deep into my palm.

They had no idea. The husband they envied and the husband they scorned was the same man.

The difference lay only in which woman stood by his side.

I was unworthy.

With a long sigh, I drove home, drained.

John had arrived before me. He looked around the wrecked dining room and asked quickly, “What happened? Was the food not to your liking?”

Biting my lip, eyes red, I said, “No, Jason had a mango allergy attack.”

John froze. Guilt filled his eyes, and he bolted for the door.

“Damn it, I should’ve noticed! Which hospital is he in? I’ll go see him!”

I grabbed his arm and handed him the divorce papers.

“Sign the bill first, the doctor’s urging me to pay.”

Without hesitation, John agreed, scrawled his name on the paper without even looking, and hurried me toward the hospital.

By Jason’s bedside, he held his hand tightly and whispered apology after apology.

From the corner, I touched the signed divorce papers inside my bag and finally breathed again.

This absurd marriage was over.

After Jason fell asleep, John came to speak to me, but his phone rang.

He hurried into the corridor, lowering his voice.

“Baby, does your stomach hurt? Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”

When he returned, he clasped my hand.

“There’s still work at the company. I’ll come back later.”

I pulled my hand away coldly with only a quiet hum.

John faltered but said nothing else before striding out of the hospital.

Compared to me, Stacy was always more important.

I returned to the ward, gathered Jason into my arms, and left without looking back.

“Airport,” I told the driver. “And hurry.”

…

John returned to the apartment to find Stacy lounging on the sofa, happily eating fruit.

She looked radiant, without a trace of pain.

He rubbed his brow in exhaustion. “Stacy, you faked being sick again.”

She leapt into his arms, pouting. “I only wanted to see you.”

In the past, John would have spoiled her and tapped her nose in jest.

But with his family in the hospital, his patience was gone.

He pushed her away coldly. “Don’t do this again. It gets in the way of my work.”

Under her stunned gaze, he turned and drove back to the hospital.

On the way, he bought bags of food I loved and soothing oils for fatigue.

But when he opened the ward door, everything slipped from his hands.

Grabbing the nearest doctor, his voice trembled.

“Where’s the patient? Where did the patient from this ward go?!”

Startled, the doctor stammered, “She left with her child just after you stepped out.”