002 The Left Behind

He rushed into the kitchen, froze for a second at the sight of the spilled beef stew, then took a step back and shouted at me—

"Mom, why didn't you pick up Jingjing?!"

I looked at him.

The light was behind him, casting his face in shadow.

I couldn't see his expression clearly.

"Didn't we agree that you'd pick her up from now on?"

He fell silent for a moment, then his voice grew angrier.

"I'm busy with work every day! You're just at home anyway—why can't you at least pick up your own granddaughter?!"

But he got off work at three in the afternoon.

And Jingjing's school didn't end until four-thirty.

I murmured, "I couldn't manage it. I'm too tired."

No one heard me.

The only response was the heavy slam of the door.

I turned to look at the evening sunlight.

It was too bright.

So bright that it made me cry.

How Did It Come to This?

Day after day.

Year after year.

Taking care of Qin Zhe'an.

Taking care of Qin Yue.

Taking care of Qin Yue's daughter.

And now, taking care of Qin Zhe'an's bai yue guang, Gu Nian—his first love, who has Alzheimer's.

I stared at the spilled beef stew in front of me.

It was a mess, just like my life.

Behind me, footprints trailed across the floor.

I walked into the bedroom, crawled under the blanket, and closed my eyes.

The sun sank lower.

The door opened.

Laughter and cheerful voices drifted in.

Someone asked, "Why are the lights off?"

I heard Qin Zhe'an mumble something.

—Click.

The light turned on.

The living room fell silent.

A long time passed before my bedroom door opened.

Qin Zhe'an's voice was gentle.

"Why didn't you cook dinner? The floor is covered in footprints—Nian Nian could slip and get hurt."