The Promise He Never Remembered Chapter 02
After work, I went straight to the kindergarten to pick up Toby.
The second he saw me, the first words out of his mouth were:
“Mommy, today is my birthday.”
His second words were:
“Mommy, is Daddy going to celebrate with me?”
Standing on the crowded sidewalk, my eyes burned red instantly. I squatted down to straighten his collar, my throat tight, not knowing how to answer—when my phone buzzed.
I looked down. It was a text from Ethan Carter:
【Free. Come home.】
Four words. That was all it took for tears to stream down my cheeks. I wiped my eyes hard, held the phone screen out to Toby, my voice shaking:
“Toby, look! Daddy said he’s free. He’s coming home to celebrate your birthday with us!”
Toby froze, then a huge, bright smile spread across his little face. He threw himself into my arms, his small hands locking around my neck, his voice high and giddy:
“Is Daddy really coming home? Really? Mommy, you’re not lying, are you?”
“I’m not lying. Mommy is not lying to you.”
I held him tight, laughing through my tears. For the first time in six years, Ethan was willing to spend his son’s birthday with us. I didn’t even wonder why he’d changed his mind. My chest was filled with burning, giddy joy.
“Let’s go buy a pizza!” I took Toby’s hand, my voice light. “What flavor do you want?”
“Super Supreme!” Toby jumped up and down, then stopped, tilting his head. “Mommy, I earned 20 dollars helping Mrs. Smith pull weeds. I want to pay for it myself! This is the pizza I’m buying for Daddy!”
My throat tightened. I squatted down and kissed his forehead. “Okay, Toby. You’re such a good boy.”
We bought a giant Super Supreme pizza, plus balloons and shiny streamers to decorate the house.
When we got home, I let Toby blow up balloons in the living room while I went into the kitchen and pulled out every ingredient I could turn into a meal. Roasted ribs, stir-fried greens, corn chowder—all the dishes Ethan used to love.
Toby tied balloons to the backs of the dining chairs, then lined up his toy cars neatly on the coffee table, saying he wanted to show them all to Daddy. He even snuck quietly into the bathroom, practicing saying “Happy Birthday” to himself in the mirror.
I leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching his small back, and felt the familiar burn behind my eyes again.
Dish after dish was set on the table. The warm, savory smell of pizza filled the whole living room. Every few minutes, Toby would race to the front door, pressing his ear against the wood, listening for the sound of Ethan’s car.
“Mommy, why isn’t Daddy here yet?”
“Maybe he’s stuck in traffic, baby. Let’s wait a little longer.”
Toby nodded obediently, climbed onto the sofa, hugged his small pillow, and stared at the front door without blinking.
One hour passed. Two hours passed.
The food went cold. I carried it back to the kitchen and reheated every single dish. The cheese on the pizza hardened, so I put it back in the oven.
Toby moved from the sofa to the floor, his chin on his knees, his little head nodding lower and lower.
“Toby, sleep if you’re tired, baby.” I walked over and lifted him into my arms.
He rubbed his eyes, his voice small and sleepy but stubborn:
“No. I want to wait for Daddy. He said he’d come.”
I held him tighter and said nothing.
After who knows how long, the child in my arms finally couldn’t hold on any longer. His eyelids fluttered shut.
I patted his back gently, listening to his steady breathing. The burning joy in my chest had long gone cold, as lifeless and hard as the pizza on the table, reheated and cooled again and again.
My phone screen suddenly lit up.
I picked it up. It was an Instagram post from Chloe Miller.
【The stars are so beautiful tonight.】
The photo was of a Ferris wheel, taken from high up inside the cabin, looking out over the glittering city lights. And in the reflection on the glass, two figures were perfectly clear: Chloe Miller, holding her phone up to the window, and Ethan Carter, his face in profile, looking down at his phone with that relaxed, gentle smile I hadn’t seen in years.
A Ferris wheel. He’d taken her to ride a Ferris wheel. Today was his son’s sixth birthday.
I stared at the photo for a long, hollow moment, then let out a soft, bitter laugh.
I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even heartbroken anymore. I just found it absurd. Absurd that I’d still let myself hope. Absurd that my son had waited up all night for his father, while that same man was on a Ferris wheel with another woman, staring up at the stars.
Suddenly my phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with the name “Ethan Carter.”
I hit mute, glanced down at Toby sleeping soundly in my arms, waited a few seconds, then answered.
“Clara.”
His voice was tired, with the distant hum of traffic in the background.
“Sorry, there was a last-minute business dinner I couldn’t get out of. You and Toby go ahead and eat. Don’t wait for me.”
A business dinner.
I opened my mouth to say something, but then I heard a soft, sweet female voice on the other end:
“Ethan, my shoelace came undone… wait for me, okay?”
The voice wasn’t loud, but in the dead silence of the night, every word was crystal clear.
My hand holding the phone shook a little, but my voice came out strangely calm:
“Okay. I see.”
Then I hung up.
In my arms, Toby suddenly stirred. His small hand fisted in the collar of my shirt, and he mumbled in his sleep:
“Mommy… you work so hard…”
I looked down at him. He wasn’t awake, just talking in his dreams, his little brows slightly furrowed, as if even in his sleep he felt sorry for me.
Tears finally spilled over, falling one by one onto his soft hair.
I laid him gently on the bed, pulling the blanket up around him. He rolled over and mumbled again, soft and sleepy:
“Mommy, thank you for having me. You worked so hard.”
I couldn’t help but smile, then cried while smiling. He was only six. A six-year-old boy who’d waited all night for his father still knew to tell his mommy he was sorry for how hard she worked, even in his sleep.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his sleeping face. The decision I’d hesitated over for so long finally settled, solid and unshakable, in my heart.
I picked up my phone and scrolled to a number I hadn’t called in years. My finger hovered over the call button for a few seconds, then pressed.
The phone rang twice before it was answered. On the other end came a steady, deep male voice, laced with surprise and warmth:
“Child. Have you finally decided to come home?”
I gripped the phone tight. My voice was a little rough, but firmer than ever:
“Dad. I want to bring Toby home. I want to give him a real home.”
There were a few seconds of silence, then the voice spoke again, more serious:
“You can come home. But you need to think clearly. To return to this family, you must leave every part of your past behind. That man, that place, those memories—none of it can come with you. Can you bear to let it all go?”
I closed my eyes. Before me was Toby’s furrowed little brow as he slept, the cold pizza on the table, the gentle smile on Ethan’s face in the Ferris wheel reflection.
“I can bear it.” I opened my eyes, my voice soft but heavy with resolve. “I will leave everything behind. I’m bringing Toby home.”
“Good.” The man’s voice finally softened, warm with relief. “Then come home. The door is always open for you.”
I hung up, walked back to the living room, and dumped every cold dish into the trash. The pizza too. I pulled down the balloons, tore off the streamers. The room was clean again, as if nothing had happened tonight.
Only Toby’s small pillow still lay crooked on the sofa, with the faint indent where he’d sat waiting for his father.
I picked up my phone and sent Ethan a text:
【Toby is asleep. You don’t need to come.】
He didn’t reply. I didn’t wait for one either.
