Nathan's chest tightened as he stared at Catherine, his mind reeling from the weight of her words. "You're not my mother," she'd said, her voice steady yet tinged with sorrow.
He wanted to deny it, to call her a liar, but the truth was written all over her; the way she stared at him left no room for doubt in his heart. This wasn't a ploy or manipulation—it was a revelation, one that shattered the fragile understanding of his very own existence.
"If you're not my mother," Nathan began, his voice low, "then who is?" he asked with a sorrowful tone and a sad expression enveloped him as tears gradually roll down his chicks uncontrollably.
Catherine hesitated for a while; her hands clasped tightly in between her lap. She glanced at Richard, who sat silent and passive, his face leaving no room for emotion.