Chapter 3
That night, after leaving the hospital, I went to the garbage dump in the residential area.
After searching for two hours in the piles of garbage, Asher suddenly appeared.
He scolded me for not being careful and disregarding my health.
After scolding, he stayed to help me search through the trash.
I don’t understand why he did this.
We worked all night, only finding a broken photo frame.
I took it, carefully wiping off the dirt.
Inside the frame was a candid shot of my mom.
That day she came to pick me up from school.
But because of a small argument, I was sulking with her.
So when I saw her at the school gate, I didn’t say a word, deliberately walking ahead with some classmates, laughing loudly.
Only after parting with them did I casually look back.
My mom was there, silent and gloomy, but she never lost sight of me, like a quiet shadow.
But I knew she wasn’t my shadow; she was my guardian angel.
Even when I was stubborn and often argued with her, she loved me deeply.
Why did I always argue with her?
Why was I so mean?
I was a bad child.
And it was for this bad child that she got so worried, easily believed that woman’s threats, and met such a tragic end!
“Shouldn’t those things have been thrown away together in a bag? Why did we only find one frame?”
What else could it be?
Someone guessed I’d come looking, so they instructed the nanny to scatter the items separately.
Even after just giving birth, my stepmom had the energy to assign tasks to the nanny.
I sneered internally, but outwardly I just said, “If your aunt finds out you helped me search through trash, she won’t be pleased.”
“My mom isn’t like that. She has already forgiven you for what happened yesterday, and we all believe you didn’t push her.”
I glanced at him.
Moonlight shone on the young man’s face.
His expression was slightly indifferent, but his eyes held a faint concern.
It’s strange how such a venomous stepmother could have such a child.
Is he smart? He believes whatever his mom says.
Is he dumb? Yet he seems destined for greatness, a super genius.
I guess, until the baby grows up, Asher will always be the golden crown on my stepmom’s head, won’t he?
He might even shine brighter, making her more audacious.
I thought about this and suddenly grabbed Asher’s sleeve.
“Brother.”
He looked at me in surprise.
They had lived in my house for six months, and I had never called him brother.
But I kept my head down, looking at the photo of my mom, gently saying, “It doesn’t matter if others believe me or not, as long as you do.”
I called him “Brother” again.
Asher smiled, patting my head like a real brother, affectionately calling me, “Hazel.”