Charlotte drove the car and brought George Stephens to the entrance of the police station.
In a few days, the court hearing would begin. Robert Stephens was currently detained at the police station, and could only be visited by family mbers, with no possibility of bail.
She had been coming frequently these days, and the police officers at the station, upon seeing her, did not stop her, but their gaze carried a trace of pity—over these months, she applied to visit Robert Stephens nearly a hundred tis, but each ti, she was rejected by him.
He refused to see her.
At first, she did not quite understand why Robert Stephens would not want to see her. Later, she slowly realized that the man harbored hatred toward her in his heart.
He kept her by his side for over ten years, and in the end, he did not even want to see her one last ti before he died.
Applying to the police for visitation rights, Charlotte Smith held George Stephens in her arms, sitting on the sofa in the waiting area, hoping that the man might consider George and co out to et her.
For so many years, she never dared to ask—why did you kill the child between us back then?
—And why did you shield her with your body during the explosion?
She feared she would never have the opportunity to ask again, yet again and again, she was rejected by him.
She didn’t know how long had passed when a policewoman ca out from inside, and Charlotte stood up, her delicate, pale face showing a bit of urgency. "He..."
"I’m sorry." The policewoman gently shook her head at her, "The prisoner does not want to show up."
Charlotte was slightly taken aback and said with a bit of urgency, "Did you tell him that Xiangliu is outside too?"
The policewoman looked at the exquisitely-appearing child next to her, "I told him. But he still refused. It’s his decision, and I cannot force him."
Charlotte stood still for a mont, suddenly releasing George Stephens’s hand, and rushed toward where the prisoners were being held.
At first, the police did not react. It wasn’t until she was about to burst inside that the officers stationed outside rushed over to pin her to the ground.
Charlotte’s bloodless face flushed deep red, her eyes filled with tears as she yelled towards the place where Robert Stephens was held, "Robert Stephens, co out here! How can you treat like this! How can you!"
Her voice was filled with fracture and despair.
George Stephens stood there, sowhat dazed, watching his mother’s breakdown. He was still young, didn’t quite understand what was happening; he only subconsciously realized—he would never see his teacher again in his life.
The teacher didn’t want him either.
He was a child nobody wanted.
Thinking this, tears began falling from his eyes, splattering onto the back of his hands.
The tight cord in his heart suddenly snapped; he curled up his small body and squatted down on the ground, crying.
*
In the car, Charlotte was touching up her makeup with a compact.
The evening sun carried a dim hue, reflecting the woman’s swollen, red eyes in the rearview mirror.
"In a mont, I’ll take you to eat. After we eat, you behave yourself and go ho. Don’t skip class anymore, understand?"
George Stephens’s voice was small, carrying a nasal tone: "Can’t I just go ho with you?"
Charlotte paused slightly in her action of touching up her makeup, dazed for a few seconds before slowly putting the compact down and looking at George Stephens.
George Stephens lowered his head, his small fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, feeling sowhat sad: "I want to go ho with you. There’s no one to chat with there. Staying alone is so boring."
Charlotte raised her hand and gently stroked the back of his round head, pulling the child over to press him against her chest.
"What they can give you, Mom can’t."
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