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Aunt Liu came from the same hometown as my mother and had taken care of my mother before. She was very experienced.
I brought her back specifically to be my personal caregiver.
I didn't drive. Instead, I hired a private car and rushed toward that quiet mountain village.
My mother was there. That was my home.
The little farmhouse my uncle found for me was tucked away in the hills — quiet, peaceful, beautiful. A good place to rest and carry a child to terms. It was also less than a kilometer from my mother's grave.
"Don't let Ethan know I'm here. Not until after the baby is born."
To keep myself from forgetting, I asked Aunt Liu to put a name tag and bracelet on me — with my photo and personal information. I put labels all over the house — to remind myself of who I was, and where everything belonged.
Three days later, I saw a familiar figure wandering outside, through the window on the second floor. He looked anxious. I thought for a full five minutes before finally remembering that it was Ethan.
He had come to find me. I waved toward the light, but he only grew smaller and smaller in the distance… My uncle handled the errands and supplies. Aunt Liu took care of my day-to-day.
I made name tags for both of them — so I wouldn’t have to ask who they were every time they entered the room.
Only the three of us were allowed in this house.
"Uncle, I’m leaving this in your hands. Don’t let a fourth person into my world."
I knew that from now on, every day would be different — like waking up inside a horror film without logic or pattern. All I could do was limit the outside world as much as possible.
Sometimes I was clear-headed. I could remember everything and everyone — but only for a fleeting moment. I would become irritable, paranoid, and even unable to speak clearly, gradually losing my self-care ability.
Time would disappear. Order would vanish. Everything would become a blur of chaos.
I would live every day in confusion and fear — until the very end.
The cool mountain breeze dried the tears from the corners of my eyes. I was neither sad nor happy, just numb.
However I felt today — it would change nothing about the unknown that was tomorrow.
The most selfish thing I did was choosing to keep the baby.
I knew that Ethan's guilt and love for me would be doubled and compensated to our child.
Our child would have everything — everything but a mother’s love. While I was still clear , I whispered my love to the baby again and again. "I'm sorry, Mom loves you."
