Chapter 11: Learning to Let Go

**Chapter Ten**

I was so heartbroken that by evening, I came down with a high fever.

I burned for several days, delirious, dreaming only of Ethan.

He was shirtless, practicing baseball swings in the backyard.

I carried a small folding chair and sat on the side, watching.

The memory was as clear as day—the warm air, the smell of freshly cut grass, the rhythmic thwack of bat against ball. It was a comfort and a torment all at once.

Ethan blushed and told me to leave.

"Guys and girls shouldn’t be hanging out like this."

I laughed heartily.

"You’re just a teenage boy—what’s the big deal? I’m your mom. What’s wrong with looking a few times?"

Ethan was helpless.

"Aunt Rachel, I’m seventeen this year."

"Wow, that fast? No wonder you’ve grown so tall."

I walked over and measured his height with my hand, then used my thumb and forefinger to check his shoulder width.

"Ah, I didn’t make this new shirt with enough room. I’ll have to alter it quickly."

Suddenly, Ethan grabbed my wrist.

"Rachel Lee!"

He looked serious, warning me sternly:

"You are not my mother."

"Oh, fine, if I’m not, then I’m not."

He wouldn’t call me mom and wouldn’t even let me call myself that. I always thought he was just too shy.

Now it seemed he had no mother-son feelings for me at all.

The Shaw family valued loyalty and justice. He was only repaying me for the years I worked hard to support his studies.

He’d given me the highest honor and a lifetime of wealth and comfort. That debt had long been repaid.

So in this lifetime, he would never have anything to do with me again.

I could no longer cook for him, mend his clothes, or pretend to chase him with a broom while he laughed and ran away.

In that small room, we’d sit cross-legged at a coffee table—he’d read, I’d sew.

The pen tip scratched quietly on paper in the night.

The lamp wasn’t very bright. To share that bit of light, we’d huddle close together, head to head, accidentally bumping heads.

Both Ethan and I would look up at the same time, and we couldn’t help but smile at each other.

Those warm, happy moments would never happen again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears still seeping out.