"Uncle, you’ve changed," she sniffled. "You used to love me so much! When that fat kid next door bullied me, you beat him up for me. You promised you’d always take care of me! But now… now that you have her, you don’t love me anymore?"
She shot me a resentful glare.
Marcus' expression turned cold in an instant. "Vivian, if you keep this up, I’ll have someone send you back to the mountains!"
"Apologize to your aunt!"
I stood there with my arms crossed, watching their ridiculous performance.
These two, who had already crossed every line of intimacy, were now pretending to be innocent in front of me.
Vivian, seeing Marcus' anger, bit her lip and whispered pitifully, "Aunt, I’m sorry."
I had no patience for their theatrics. Without a word, I turned and walked straight into the yard.
It was almost time.
Soon, I wouldn’t have to sit through this nauseating display of their twisted relationship.
At the dinner table, the old lady brought up the same topic as always—children.
"Lila, you're getting married soon. When do you plan to have children? When I was your age, Marcus' sister was already old enough to follow me to the fields."
Marcus' sister—Vivian’s mother.
I had heard the story before. After her parents passed away, Vivian moved in with her grandmother, living under the same roof as Marcus. He was eight years older, and with the old couple busy working all day, the responsibility of looking after her mostly fell on him.
Then he left for university, started a business, and barely returned home over the years.
The first reason was time.
The second—poverty.
He was so broke he couldn’t even afford the trip home.
When I first met him, he had just failed his first business venture. He was sleeping under a bridge, rummaging through trash for food.
All he had was a tattered black computer bag with an old, battered laptop inside.
That laptop held all his dreams.
He was the classic protagonist of this world—the self-made man from humble beginnings.
Then, a soft voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Grandma, she’s not the only one who can give Uncle a baby," Vivian whispered, her gaze flickering toward Marcus before quickly looking away.
I snapped back to reality, silently sipping my chicken soup. The chickens I raised myself—so even the broth tasted richer than anything outside.
Marcus' brows furrowed at her words. "My child will only be born by Lila."