Milton sensed her awkwardness. He understood. She didn’t remember him. But she hadn’t rejected him. She had even returned the hug. That alone was a gift he hadn’t dared hope for.
Wanting to ease her discomfort, Milton eventually released her. He pulled out his phone and brought up an old photo. “Mom, this was me when I was little.”
Aside from that first emotional rush, Milton was calm and considerate. Every movement now was soft, careful not to overwhelm Rita.
Rita felt the tenderness in his actions, and her heart warmed further. She lowered her gaze to the screen.
Yesterday, Elliana had shown Rita only one picture—a young Rita holding the little Milton. Today, Milton showed Rita a gallery of memories.
Milton’s phone was filled with countless photos. They captured moments from his birth up until the age of six. Every image carried warmth, closeness, and the unmistakable bond between mother and son.
Through the images, Rita caught glimpses of her past self. The memories still didn’t return, but the emotions inside the photos stirred something deep. She could feel her heart leaning toward her son.
Milton murmured, pointing gently, “Mom, look here. You knitted this hat for me. That keyboard was your gift for my third birthday. And this painting—we made it together.”
In every picture, Milton found a trace of the love Rita had given him.
Rita examined each image while listening to Milton’s soft voice. Before she even noticed, tears were rolling down her cheeks. She still couldn’t recall the moments, but the joy in those photos touched her deeply. This was the happiness she once had. This was the bond she shared with her son.
“Milton…” Rita whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I left you when you were so young. I even forgot you. And you spent all these years searching for me. I’m so sorry… You have every right to blame me.”
? ?ν
Hearing her speak his name filled Milton with bittersweet warmth. “Please don’t apologize. None of this was your fault. The people who took you were responsible. And they’ve already been dealt with. No one will ever tear us apart again.”
“That’s right! We won’t let anyone separate us again!” Arthur chimed in quickly. He had been watching quietly, waiting for the right time to approach. Seeing Rita soften toward Milton filled him with hope, and he stepped in without hesitation.
At the sound of his voice, Rita lifted her gaze.
The moment their eyes met, Arthur’s composure shattered. He stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “Rita…”
Rita flinched. She pulled her hand away instantly and took several steps back. She might have accepted the truth—that he was her husband—but to her, he was still a stranger. She wasn’t ready for that kind of closeness, not from a man she didn’t remember.
The moment Rita’s hand slipped from his, a sharp emptiness shot through Arthur, echoing the hollow ache tightening in his chest. He stared at his open palm and then at Rita retreating from him, the loss hitting like a sudden wave.
Arthur lowered his gaze. He and Rita had once burned with a love so intense that it felt impossible to extinguish. Rita used to sprint into his arms the instant she spotted him, covering his face with eager kisses as though she couldn’t bear a moment apart. Now, even a gentle touch made her recoil. It was as if her affection had disappeared the moment her memories did. And if those memories never returned, would the bond they cherished simply fade into nothing?
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