I'm Not Alone in This World's Symphony of Life!

After Zane received the lawyer's letter, he stormed into Neal's hospital room.

He completely disregarded our son, who was enduring pain on the bed, and pointed at me, shouting furiously.

"Yvette, how dare you sue me? It's bad enough you got sick, but you also gave me a sick child. You're nothing but a jinx, dragging me down with you both to hell!"

I wanted to argue with him, but Neal's small hand tugged at my clothes, his voice weak.

"Mom, Dad, please don't fight! I'm sorry, it's all my fault! I shouldn't have gotten sick! Let's leave the hospital now; I don't want to be treated anymore... Please don't fight because of me, okay? I'm scared!"

My eyes instantly welled up, and I couldn't stop my tears from falling.

I bent down to comfort my son, "Okay, we won't fight anymore. It's not your fault for getting sick, Neal. Don't be afraid."

My son was so sensible, even strangers would feel some pity.

Was Zane a beast? How could he be so cold-blooded and heartless?

Zane completely ignored Neal's words and viciously tore up the lawsuit papers.

"Stop trying to scare me with this lawyer crap. I'm not afraid."

After Zane left, Neal seemed listless, and soon he became drowsy.

But when he closed his eyes, a large patch on the white pillow was soaked with tears.

……

Court mediation.

My only hope was that Zane would agree to sell our marital home.

After all, the house was in a good location and could fetch a decent amount.

But Zane threw a psychiatric diagnosis report on the table, holding a fruit knife pointed straight at me.

"You see this? I am sick too, and I need money for treatment. If you keep pushing me, we'll all die together."

The mediation room suddenly became chaotic.

Zane looked at the commotion he had caused and smirked evilly.

His fruit knife brought this court session to an abrupt end.

I chased after Zane as he left the mediation room, but he seemed to deliberately shake me off and walked out.

The lawyer helplessly told me that since the mediation failed, we could only prepare for a court trial, which would take a long time.

……

I nodded blankly and returned to the hospital, sitting in the corridor, staring blankly at the names in my contacts.

I had borrowed money from almost everyone I knew, but it was still far from enough.

I hated my own helplessness and didn't dare to go in and look at Neal's pale face.

Every day that Neal's condition dragged on was another day of danger and suffering.

When the nurse went in to give Neal an injection, I stood at the door, secretly crying as I watched him.

After the nurse finished the injection, she praised him, "Neal, you're so strong. You never cry."

Neal pressed his little lips together, his soft voice firm, "Neal can't cry. If Mommy sees Neal crying, she'll be sad. Neal is a little man and shouldn't make Mommy cry."

So this was why he only dared to cry secretly when he felt wronged, scared, or in pain.

He was afraid I would feel heartbroken, afraid I would be sad...

Oh, God, why did you give me such a little angel only to let him suffer so much?

Just as I was about to turn and leave, I almost bumped into Ryker.

For a moment, the atmosphere was a bit awkward.

Ryker cleared his throat and handed me a hospital payment receipt.

"This is from a fundraiser organized by our hospital's doctors. It totals 70,000 dollars, and we've already paid part of Neal's expenses."

Before I could thank him, he continued.

"I also found out that in cases like yours, you can raise funds online. If you need help, I can assist you."

His words were like a ray of light in a dark room.

That's right, crowdfunding! How could I not have thought of that?

Later, with Ryker's help, our story was posted on a relief platform.

It quickly attracted attention from all sides.

Neal's maturity won the admiration and praise of kind-hearted netizens.

Meanwhile, Zane and his family's heartlessness were harshly criticized online.

When Zane saw the situation escalating on the internet, he convinced his mother to move into a rental apartment and secretly sold our house before fleeing abroad alone.

When I heard this news, I was so furious that I nearly fainted.

My dad sighed, gritted his teeth, and sold the small old house he and my mom had saved for their retirement.

Because the house was small, old, and in a poor location, it only sold for 180,000 dollars.

But it was enough for Neal's surgery costs.