Chapter 74
"Mommy's been so nice to us lately!" Tommy exclaimed excitedly, tugging at his father's hand. "David, tell Daddy about all the yummy things we've eaten!"
David began counting on his fingers, his eyes lighting up with each item: "Milk powder, sponge cake, wild berries, sweet potato balls, noodles, eggs, meat, ribs..." He paused for breath before continuing, "And milk candies, cookies, and canned fruit!"
Michael Stone frowned. So many luxuries? What were his in-laws up to?
In the past, the most they'd ever sent was half a pound of cookies or a few pieces of sponge cake, with the occasional canned fruit as a rare treat. Why this sudden generosity—money and goods alike?
What exactly had they written in that letter? Were they trying to get Emily to return to the city?
His guard went up immediately. As the saying goes, beware of Greeks bearing gifts.
It wasn't that he wanted to think the worst of his in-laws. But in all their years of marriage, Emily had never once visited her parents. That alone was strange. The gifts they sent almost seemed like consolation prizes.
"Daddy, look!" Tommy hopped around proudly, showing off his new rubber shoes. "Mommy bought these for me! Aren't they pretty?"
Michael crouched down to examine the shoes. Rubber shoes required industrial vouchers—they weren't cheap. Both boys wore brand-new nylon socks, their cheeks rosy with health.
Ever since his wife lost her memory, she'd stopped demanding to return to the city. Instead, she doted on the children endlessly. The change filled him with both relief and unease.
"Mommy's studying at home. Be good and don't disturb her," Michael reminded them.
Suddenly, David looked up. "Daddy, if Mommy gets into university, will she take us with her?"
The question hit Michael like a punch to the chest.
"Of course," he said firmly, crouching to meet their eyes. "Wherever Mommy goes to school, Daddy will take you there too. We'll be her support team."
"What's a support team?"
"It means..." Michael thought for a moment. "Mommy studies, and we cook for her."
"Yay!" The boys cheered and hugged each other, their faces breaking into the carefree smiles he hadn't seen in so long.
In the next room, Emily Johnson listened to the children's laughter, her heart swelling with bittersweet emotion. Lately, the boys had been watching her with wary eyes, as if afraid she might vanish the moment they blinked.
Dinner was cooked by Michael—golden crispy pancakes and fragrant stir-fried dishes. Who knew the man could cook so well?
Late that night, as Michael moved to enter their bedroom, Emily blocked the doorway.
"I've lost my memories," she said, meeting his gaze directly. "We're practically strangers now. Sharing a bed would be uncomfortable."
The words struck him like lightning. No longer allowed to sleep in the same room as his wife?
"You don't want this?" Emily narrowed her eyes. If he truly objected, he'd have moved out long ago. Why wait until now?
Her question doused Michael like a bucket of cold water. Didn't want it? How could he possibly refuse?