With that, he released her roughly, turning away. Shen Xuan, who had been silently crying by the table, let out a small whimper.
Shen Xiao's gaze flicked to his son briefly, but there was no warmth in his eyes. Only cold detachment.
"Go to bed, Xuan'er," he ordered flatly. "Eat your food and go to bed, you are not a baby, we have agreed on that already, and don't let people use you! Be smart next time."
The boy nodded obediently, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. He didn't even look at Yueyao as he trudged away, his small shoulders trembling.
In his little heart, he didn't blame his father. Daddy was powerful and willing to spend time with him and Auntie Bai. Daddy was always busy. Daddy smiled when he was with Aunt Bai.
It was Mommy who was always crying. Always weak. Always clinging to Daddy, making him angry all the time, in his young mind, he couldn't voice it, but he felt it deep within:
If only Mommy disappeared, maybe Daddy would be happier.
Maybe Aunt Bai could finally come to live with them. Auntie Bai makes us happy.
And with that silent resentment blooming in his heart, Shen Xuan stepped back, distancing himself from his mother's trembling hand as she reached for him, leaving Yueyao standing there with her hand suspended in mid-air, utterly broken under the crystal lights.
As Shen Xiao walked up the stairs without a backward glance, his cold voice drifted down the hall, echoing like a death sentence:
"And don't wait up for me again. It's pathetic."
The moment Shen Xiao's footsteps disappeared up the stairs, Yueyao felt her knees buckle. She clutched the back of a dining chair for support, her tears falling fast and hot against her flushed cheeks.
Pathetic.
That was what he called her. That was what she had become.
She turned to look at the untouched dinner spread out before her, the braised abalone, the stewed duck, the stir-fried greens she had cooked herself because he once mentioned he liked them. Her vision blurred as she stared at the food congealing in the dim light.
Her hands trembled as she picked up Shen Xuan's bowl. The rice had hardened, and the soup formed a thin layer of oil on top.
"Mother…" came a soft voice from the hallway.
She turned around quickly, wiping her tears away with trembling fingers.
Shen Xuan stood there in his pale blue pajamas, clutching his stuffed rabbit tightly against his chest.
His eyes were red and swollen from crying earlier, but his expression was blank, eerily calm for a child of only four.
"Why doesn't Daddy want to eat with us?" he asked, his voice was quiet and emotionless, "Is it because of you again?"
Yueyao felt like her chest had been split open. She forced a smile that was more painful than any wound, "No, baby… no. Daddy is just… busy."
Busy loving someone else. Busy building a life away from them. Busy erasing her existence from his world.
Shen Xuan lowered his gaze to the floor, his fingers tightening around his stuffed rabbit.
He didn't cry or ask further, instead, his tiny lips pressed into a thin line, his small jaw tightening in silent resentment.
At that moment, Yueyao realised something that was so chilling.
He didn't blame Shen Xiao. He blamed her.
Because to him, Daddy was perfect. Daddy was gentle when he visited Bai Zhi. Daddy smiled when he was with her. Daddy was always busy with "important work," while Mommy was just… here, crying, weak and pathetic.
She reached out to him, wanting to pull him into her arms, to shield him from the cold reality of their home, but Shen Xuan stepped back ever so slightly. His eyes didn't meet hers. His small chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his little shoulders tense.
"Xuan'er…" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Come here… please."
Slowly, he walked to her and let her hug him, but his body remained stiff in her embrace.
His tiny arms didn't wrap around her neck like they used to. He only stood there, enduring her touch in silence, his eyes staring blankly over her shoulder.
And in that silence, Yueyao felt her soul crumble.
Her son… her only reason to endure this life… no longer saw her as his safety.
He saw her as the obstacle to his father's happiness.
That night, as she tucked Shen Xuan into bed, he turned his back to her and pulled his stuffed rabbit close to his chest.
His small voice floated into the silence, soft and muffled by his pillow:
"Mommy… why can't you be like Aunt Bai? Daddy smiles when he's with her…"
Yueyao felt her knees weaken. She grabbed the edge of the bed to steady herself, her tears falling onto the sheets.