Samuel’s pupils dilated. His phone slipped from his hand. It hit the floor.
He muttered to himself, “How is this possible? How could this happen?”
By then, Toby was asleep in my arms. At least he didn’t have to witness this cruel scene.
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Chapter 8
How could this happen? I wanted to ask the same thing.
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After my death, I had watched helplessly as Toby stood beside me. He called out to me repeatedly, anxiously tugging at my hand and trying to wake me up.
I had watched as he tried to pour himself water because he was thirsty. However, he accidentally spilled the hot water and burned himself. Terrified, he sobbed pitifully. I paced back and forth desperately, unable to do anything.
In the end, he curled up against my cold body. He was sobbing and calling for me. Then, he drifted into a deep sleep. Three days later, weakened beyond help, he lay in my arms and took his last breath.
In those final days, Toby used my phone to call Samuel countless times until the phone battery finally died. Not once did he pick
- up.
If he had answered even just once, Toby would have survived. He was Samuel’s son–his biological son. That was the truth even if he refused to acknowledge Toby as his son.
After Toby died, I held his small soul in that void. He didn’t even realize he had died.
He happily rested on my shoulder, saying, “Mommy, why didn’t you answer when I called you these past few days? I thought you were dead. I was so scared…”
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