Crises in Love (Zora and Jaylan) novel Chapter 498

I lifted my head from Ronan's embrace, my eyes brimming with tears as I gazed at him, lost in a daze. It took me a moment to find my voice, thick with emotion, "I have to go see him!"

Hannah looked at Ronan, then at me as I struggled to get out of bed. She rushed to my side, "Allie, you need to rest more!"

"I have to see him!" My heart was heavy with the thought of Zora's child, the very reason I was torn from my own son, Carl.

If not for him, how could I ever have been separated from my own flesh and blood?

I remember so vividly when Carl was born. The doctor had shown him to me, chuckling, "What a handsome boy, weighing 7 pounds and 4 ounces. Listen to him cry; so strong, so full of life!"

But when did this child take Carl's place by my side? Where was my son?

No wonder everyone says he doesn't resemble me. He doesn't look anything like my children!

Stubbornly, I got out of bed, feeling as light as if I were walking on clouds, my head heavy and my feet barely touching the ground.

Hannah supported me as we went to Carl's intensive care unit. He was fussing, his cries soft, like a kitten's.

I approached, and he immediately saw me, bursting into louder sobs and crying out, "Mommy!"

That single word tore at my heart. I bent down, studying his face through my tears. The more I looked, the more he resembled Zora. And yet, he called me "mommy," but I was not his mother.

"Mommy! Mommy... baby's scared!" His cries were so pitiful.

He said he was scared, but was my son scared without me by his side? While the impostor child played and laughed in my arms, what was happening to my own? Did he have someone to coddle and comfort him?

I couldn't bear to think any longer and turned to leave. But the moment Carl saw me move, he began to wail, struggling against the restraints, "Mommy, mommy, I need mommy! Mommy, don't go..."

Completely overwhelmed, I collapsed to my knees, my head thrown back in anguish, "What should I do, my son? Where are you?"

Meanwhile, Carl continued to cry, "Mommy, I’m a good boy, don't leave me... I'll stop crying! Mommy..."

Sure enough, he slowly stopped wailing, his sobs turning to sniffles as he licked his wet lips.

I reached for a tissue that Hannah handed me and wiped his face clean.

His little eyes stayed glued to my face, full of fear that I might leave again, his gaze pitiful.

"Mommy... I’m a good boy," he hiccuped, waving his little hand, "Won't... won't cry!"

"You're such a good baby..." I stroked his head, but I couldn't stop my own tears. He reached out to wipe them away, "Mommy, don't cry, be good!"

I couldn't contain my emotions any longer and embraced him, my face pressed against his, "Mommy won't cry! Baby! Mommy won't leave again!"

But where was my child? Was he happy and well?

The thought of his circumstances was unbearable; could he too find someone kind-hearted to look after him?