Goodbye, Mr. Regret

It felt as though a sharp knife had plunged straight into Jessica's heart.

She'd always treated Henry well-she knew that. Yet, somehow, he always managed to hurt her the most.

"Henry, that's enough!" Timothy's voice was cold, cutting through the tension in the room.

"Dad, I" Henry started to explain.

"Henry." Sheila gently pulled him toward her, her tone soft but firm. "You can't accuse your mom of things she hasn't done."

Henry's lips pressed together in frustration. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh-it was just a reflex. Deep down, he always knew that bringing up his mother would upset his father. But lately, everything had changed. Miss Sheila hadn't come by in a long while, and she didn't visit him at school anymore. Every day, someone from the family picked him up, and his classmates kept asking why his beautiful mom never came. He had no idea what to say.

Whenever he tried to reach Sheila, she'd tell him she was busy and couldn't get away. She'd also told him that his own mother had come back. She never said it outright, but Henry could sense it: his mom was the reason Miss Sheila stayed away.

He slipped his hand out of Sheila's, walked over to Jessica, and whispered, "Mom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just wanted Miss Sheila to come over as a guest. Please don't be mad, okay?"

He reached out, hoping to hold Jessica's hand like he used to when he wanted to win her forgiveness with a little charm. In the past, if he ever made a mistake, a little show of affection was all it took-his mother would always soften.

He didn't want to get scolded by his dad for what he'd said, and if his father got angry and sent Miss Sheila away, that would be even worse.

But as soon as his fingers brushed Jessica's hand, she recoiled as if she'd been burned. "Don't touch me."

Henry's eyes widened. For a moment, he forgot to be upset he was too shocked. "Mom, you can talk? When did you start talking again?"

Sheila was just as stunned. The last time she'd seen Jessica, she'd only used sign language. Now, suddenly, she was speaking.

Jessica looked at Henry, her eyes cold. "I can talk now. Does that make you happy, or not?"

Happy? Or not? Henry didn't know what to feel. Everything inside him was tangled and confused.

Why hadn't his mother spoken sooner? He'd already let everyone think Sheila was his mom, and now, with his real mother talking again, what would people think if he switched back? He felt trapped, unable to control any of it.

Timothy made his way over, leaning on his cane, and took Henry's hand in his. His voice gentled. "Aren't you going to congratulate your mom? She's finally better -she can talk again."

Jessica glared at Timothy. "I don't need his congratulations."

Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the master bedroom. She closed the door behind her, pressing her back against it, heart aching with leftover pain.

She'd told herself she was done loving Timothy-that whatever he did, it no longer mattered. But Henry was different. He was her son, her flesh and blood, the child she'd carried for nine months. His words and actions cut deeper than anything, and no matter how much she tried to let go, the pain remained.

Jessica's coldness hurt Henry more than he could bear. Tears of frustration and shame spilled down his cheeks. He'd tried to hold her hand, to apologize, but she refused even that.

How could his mom treat him like this?

Timothy saw his son's tears and frowned. "Stop crying. You're not a little girl. Boys don't just burst into tears like that."

Henry felt even more wronged. The harder Timothy was on him, the harder it was

to keep his feelings in check-he started sobbing outright.

Sheila hugged him tight, shielding him. “Timothy, he's just a child. Don't be so harsh: You left him at your father's place for weeks, barely paid him any attention, and when he reached out to me, he was clearly hurting. I knew you were busy, so I picked him up after school and brought him home. If my visits are upsetting your family, I'll leave right now. But don't take it out on Henry." noveldrama

She wiped away Henry's tears, her voice full of concern. "There, there, don't cry. You're still just a kid-your mom and dad aren't really mad at you. I have to go now, but promise me you'll behave, all right?"

"Miss Sheila, can't you stay?" Henry pleaded, clinging to her. With someone else in the house, his parents were less likely to scold him he was still afraid of his father.

Sheila glanced at Timothy, but seeing no sign that he wanted her to stay, she sighed, "I really do have things to do. I'll visit you another time, Henry. Goodbye."

She stood up and left, her own mood heavy.

The atmosphere in the house grew even colder.

Timothy felt a deep, unexplainable ache. He'd once thought starting a new family would be simple, that the house would always be filled with warmth and harmony. But now, it was turning into something he barely recognized.

Face grim, Timothy sat on the couch, Henry standing by his side with his head bowed, bracing for another scolding, looking utterly pitiful.

A wave of tenderness washed over Timothy. This was his son, after all. He pulled Henry onto the sofa and wrapped him in his arms, speaking gently You need to treat youre mother better, okay? She didn't do what you accused her of. When you say things like that, it hurts her."