Chapter 362

Jonathan crossed his arms, leaned his head against the window, and stared outside, refusing to look at Irene.

Irene couldn't contain her frustration. She slapped Jonathan's leg. "Tell me the truth," she demanded. "Did Teresa go to Everport to see you again? Did you two meet up? And you even took her to a business party! Is she the one clinging to you?"

Jonathan's eyes snapped open, icy cold. The look startled Irene; she'd never seen him so cold and impatient.

"Does it really matter who's chasing whom?" Jonathan said. "I told you, stay out of things between me and her."

"I'm your mother! How can I not care? You're still single!" Irene yelled.

Jonathan sighed. "I'm thirty already. Donald's about to get married, and look at me… Yeah, I guess I brought this on myself. I accept it."

"Why do you think like that?" Irene argued. "You're just as stubborn as your dad. Can't you just change your mindset and find someone better? Jonathan, you have so much going for you—why can't you see it? It's not too late to start looking now."

Jonathan grew impatient. "I'll move forward. You don't need to worry about me."

"You!" Irene sniffled, pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it to her eyes. "You keep saying I shouldn't worry, but you're my only son. How could I not care? Do you know Teresa's sister called me a widow? Do you know how much that hurt me? All these years, I've given everything to you. When you were little, I poured my heart into your studies and your future. Now, for your marriage, I'm doing even more. Why can't you understand your mom?"

As soon as Irene finished, Jonathan snapped, "Was it I who made you a widow?"

Irene froze, staring at Jonathan's flushed face. "Jonathan—"

Jonathan interrupted. "Mom, I'm your son, not your husband. If you find someone suitable, go for it. You don't have to keep saying you're living like a widow because of me. You're not living your life just for me, and I'm not living mine just for you. Even if I stay single my whole life, that's my choice."

He ordered the driver, "Stop the car." The driver looked lost, so Jonathan repeated, enunciating each word, "Stop the car. I'm getting out now."

With a screech, the car stopped. Jonathan slammed the door and stumbled out, unsure where he was going. Maybe it was the alcohol, but for once, he finally let everything out.

Irene snapped back to reality and got out of the car. She knew Jonathan was drunk, but he'd already hailed a cab and left. She kept calling him, but he rejected her calls. Then he sent a text: [I'm fine. Just go home.]

Jonathan rubbed his aching forehead, leaning his head back against the taxi seat. The driver glanced at him in the mirror. "Where to, sir?"

Jonathan's frown deepened. "Rosary Estates," he blurted, then slumped back.

When they reached the gates of Rosary Estates, the driver's reminder pulled Jonathan from his daze. He got out of the car, and the night air hit him with a chilly bite, sobering him slightly. He wandered over to the building where Teresa lived, standing alone under a streetlight for a while. He looked up at the window where the lights were still on.

"Whoa, it's Mr. Lime!" Michael, lying on his balcony counting stars, spotted Jonathan from the tenth floor. "Mr. Lime!" The little guy waved, but he was too far away for Jonathan to hear. "Mom, look! It's Mr. Lime!" Michael ran to tell Teresa, but she was on the phone, looking serious, and ignored him. Seeing Teresa was still on the phone, Michael opened the door and ran out.

Jonathan finally tore his gaze away and turned to leave. Teresa's words echoed in his mind: "Jonathan, I want to move on." They'd promised not to bother each other anymore. There was no future for them anyway. He'd come here only because he didn't know where else to go, not to disturb her.

"Mr. Lime!" Michael hurried after Jonathan, but Jonathan had already gotten into a car and driven off. Michael chased the car for a few meters, but it quickly disappeared. He pouted, tears welling. "Mr. Lime, why won't you talk to me?"

The property manager, returning from the restroom, saw Michael crouched by the door. Startled, he quickly brought the boy back inside.

Teresa was still on the phone. Spotting Michael, she froze, unsure when he'd slipped out.

"Mommy, Mr. Lime ignored me. He just left…" Michael whimpered, clinging to Teresa's leg.

Teresa covered the phone. "Cathy, I get it. My mom can handle my sister's engagement. I won't be going." She hung up quickly. She'd been talking to Cathy the whole time. Cathy had messaged her on WhatsApp about Jennifer and Donald's upcoming engagement.

The engagement was set for the beginning of the month. Teresa had no idea Jennifer was getting engaged; Jennifer hadn't told her a thing.

Cathy said, "Maybe your sister just hasn't figured out how to tell you. The two of them really like each other, and Hayden's already given his blessing. He also hopes you can come. It is your sister, after all."

Teresa politely declined, saying she was too busy. But Cathy saw through her. "Donald told me you're back in Nareigh. You should have some free time, right? The engagement party's local, too."

"I'll think about it," Teresa replied, trying to brush Cathy off. She was so caught up in the call, she hadn't realized Michael had slipped out.

Cathy hung up, looking puzzled. Donald walked over. "What's up, Mom?"

Cathy spoke, still confused. "I was just on the phone with Teresa, telling her you and her sister are getting engaged next month… so both families could have dinner together. But…" She hesitated. "I think I heard a kid call her 'Mom.' I'm not sure if I misheard."

Donald suddenly remembered something—Michael's face flashed in his mind. Back in Everport, he'd definitely heard the kid call Teresa "Mom," too. But Jennifer had explained it wasn't her sister's child, just a poor kid desperate for love who called her that.

"Hey, do you think Teresa's become a stepmom?" Cathy asked Donald, clearly gossiping.

"No way, Mom. That's impossible," Donald waved her off. "You're overthinking it. Maybe it was just the TV in the background."

"But I heard it really clearly. And there was something about 'Lime' or something—I didn't get it at all."

"Really?" Donald suddenly thought of something else, his suspicion about the little guy growing.