Chapter 5: Relics of Love

Derek stared at me, his gaze so cold it was frightening, as if he wanted to eat me alive.

There was a dangerous tension in the air—like we were back in those days when love and hate were just two sides of the same coin. What I said must have reminded him of the past, of how he gave up everything for me, but I abandoned him cruelly for money.

My stomach hurt badly. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore, turned to leave, but suddenly felt weightless—my feet left the ground. The next second, Derek carried me over his shoulder.

He was like a bandit robbing a woman, cigarette in mouth, carrying me out of the private room.

People stared, some whispering, some laughing. A few snapped photos on their phones—because nothing stays private in a small town bar. I struggled desperately, telling Derek to put me down.

He raised his hand and slapped my butt, scolding fiercely, "Natalie, I must owe you from a past life, letting you torment me like this in this life..."

His voice was gruff, almost affectionate, but I could feel the anger simmering beneath.

He threw me into the car, pinned down my legs, grabbed my face, and cursed viciously, "Sometimes, I really want to kill you."

His hands were rough, but his touch was almost tender. His expression looked like he hated me to the core, but his eyes always seemed to say he still loved me.

My stomach hurt so much I couldn’t speak. I was sweating coldly, glaring at him.

Derek frowned, opened the car’s glove compartment, took out some antacid, and stuffed it into my mouth.

The bitterness made me gag. He always kept Tums in his glovebox, ever since that road trip to Nashville when I got sick on gas station hot dogs. I saw, in the corner of the glove compartment, my old lipstick I couldn’t bear to throw away, a broken hair tie I once used, and the childish pink hair clip Derek once bought for me...

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to cry. He’d kept these scraps of me all this time—proof that maybe I wasn’t so easy to forget.

After so many years, he still remembered my weak stomach, and even if I wasn’t there, he still habitually kept painkillers for me.

But I steeled my heart, used all my strength, and pushed him away.

I forced myself to smile at him, saying, "Derek, stop pestering me, okay? The way you pester me is really annoying."

"Maybe you don’t know, I’ve already been married and had a child..."

I watched his face twist in shock. "Do you still want to get back together? Derek, don’t be pathetic."

He was pushed back two steps by me, frozen there.

He looked like he’d been punched in the gut. As I got up to leave, he suddenly pressed me against the car, grabbed my neck, his voice trembling as he gritted his teeth, "Natalie, I don’t believe it."

"You’d better tell me you’re joking, or I’ll lose it."

His eyes bore into mine, searching for any hint of a lie. I looked straight into his eyes and calmly said, "Fine, I’ll prove it to you."

I took Derek to the children’s hospital. At nine in the evening, the inpatient department lights were still on.

We walked the antiseptic-smelling halls in silence, every step echoing on the tile. I checked my phone for messages from the hospital or Sammy’s doctor, anxiety twisting in my gut. I stood outside the ward, and through the glass, pointed at the child quietly reading inside, telling Derek, "That’s my child."

That child is called Sammy, my dearest little treasure.

He looks a lot like me, but his personality is like Derek’s—very considerate, gentle, a little stubborn, with a determined look in his eyes.

I watched Derek’s face as he took it all in. He inherited all of Derek’s good qualities. He’s such a good kid.

But he was sick. Not yet six years old, thin and small, yet so obedient it made your heart ache.

Derek stared at the child for a long, long time, then clenched his fist and punched the wall hard.

He lowered his head, and I think a tear fell. I had never seen him look so wrecked.

That night, the last thing Derek said to me was, "Natalie, you’ve got guts."

His voice was raw. He didn’t ask who the child’s father was.

He didn’t realize the child was his.