The Promise He Never Remembered Chapter 04

The Promise He Never Remembered Chapter 04

Ethan held my wrist, his fingers tightening little by little, like he was scared I’d disappear the second 

he let go. 

His eyes fell on Toby’s face. The little boy was 

staring up at him, eyes red, lips pressed tight, his gaze full of stubbornness and hurt. 

Bad people. His own son had called him a bad 

person. 

Ethan suddenly felt like something had slammed into his chest, knocking the breath right out of 

him. He opened his mouth to explain, but looking 

into Toby’s clear, innocent eyes, every word stuck 

in his throat. 

He’d never known this was how his child saw him. 

For six years, he’d found Toby annoying, loud, 

always showing up at the worst times. He’d made 

Toby call him “Uncle,” told him to keep his distance, 

in front of other people. He’d thought children 

were young, that they didn’t understand anything, that they’d forget after a couple of years. 

But children remember everything. 

“Toby.” Ethan let go of my wrist, crouched down, 

trying to make his voice warm. “Uncle heard 

yesterday was your birthday, right?” 

Toby didn’t say a word. He just stepped back, 

hiding behind me. 

Ethan felt a sharp twist in his chest, but still forced 

a smile: “I got a birthday present for you. I forgot 

to give it to you yesterday. Wait here, I’ll go get it.” 

He stood up, walked quickly to the car parked at 

the curb, opened the back door, and pulled out a 

cake box. 

I recognized it instantly. It was the same cake I’d 

pushed aside on my desk that morning. The box. 

still had the bakery’s label, the soft buttercream 

frosting, the crushed peanuts on top. 

Ethan walked back with the cake, crouched in 

front of Toby, and opened the box, his voice laced 

with forced warmth: 

“See? It’s a cake. Do you like it?” 

Toby looked down at the cake. He didn’t make the 

surprised, happy face Ethan had expected. He just stared quietly at the crushed peanuts, his little 

face slowly turning pale. 

Just then, Chloe stepped over in her high heels, put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, tilted her head to 

look at the cake, and suddenly laughed: 

“Oh, this cake!” 

Ethan frowned: “What about it?” 

Chloe covered her mouth, her tone light and 

casual, like she was just mentioning something in 

passing: 

“I bought this cake yesterday! I took one bite and 

didn’t like the taste, so I left it in the office break 

room. I didn’t expect you to bring it here, Mr. 

Carter! Well, it’s better than throwing it away, isn’t 

it? Perfectly fine for a little one to have, I should 

think.” 

She finished with a sweet smile at Toby, a smile 

that oozed snobby, patronizing charity. 

Ethan’s face changed instantly. He turned to look 

at Chloe, his eyes cold enough to freeze water. 

Chloe flinched, shyly pulling her hand off his 

shoulder, mumbling: “Did… did I say something 

wrong?” 

Toby stepped back again. He looked up at the 

cake, his voice small, but every word clear: 

“This is a peanut cake.” 

He looked up at me, then at Ethan, his small hands. 

fisting tight in the hem of my shirt, biting his lip as 

he said: 

“I can’t eat peanuts. If I eat them, I get really sick. 

Mommy says anyone who gives me peanuts is a bad person.” 

Ethan’s pupils shrank. 

Toby looked at the cake again, his voice even 

softer, so quiet it was almost like he was talking to 

himself: 

“And… I don’t eat other people’s garbage.” 

. The hallway was so quiet you could hear the wind 

rustling the leaves outside. 

Ethan’s hands, holding the cake box, were shaking. 

His face looked like someone had just slapped 

him as hard as they could. He opened his mouth, 

wanting to say something, but his throat felt. 

blocked, unable to make a single sound. 

I squatted down, pulling Toby into my arms, and 

whispered softly: “Toby’s right. We don’t eat 

garbage. Let’s go.” 

I stood up, grabbing the suitcase handle again. Toby stayed pressed tight to my side, his little. hand holding the hem of my shirt, never looking. back at that man again. 

We stepped into the elevator. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Ethan’s voice rang out from the hallway, desperate and raw: 

“Clara–Toby–wait-” 

He ran toward the elevator, his leather shoes slamming against the floor in quick, frantic steps. But Chloe was faster. She grabbed his arm, her voice tearful and hurt: 

“Mr. Carter, what are you doing? My luggage is still here! You said you’d help me move my things into the room… you can’t just leave me like this!” 

Ethan’s steps stopped. He looked back at Chloe, then at the elevator doors slowly sliding shut. 

In the end, he chose Chloe.