In the end, it was still me who, crying, found my son burning with a high fever and unconscious and brought him back home.

Out of the corner of my eye, my gaze fell to my side. On my son's diagnosis report, thankfully this time everything was still in time.

In this life, my son and I won't fuss over true feelings anymore. As long as Jasmine can do a mother's duty and find a matching bone marrow source for my son, that's enough.

When it was completely dark, Jasmine finally came back with Derek and his son.

Carrying big bags and small bags, and also bringing a warm, cozy hot pot smell all over her.

An unnatural look flashed through Jasmine's eyes. "It was too cold today, so I just took the two of them to eat something outside."

After thinking about it, she rarely added, "You also know, these years it hasn't been easy for him to live alone with the child. Tommy isn't like Ethan. Since he was little, he hasn't eaten much..."

I didn't say anything.

I only swept a glance at Tommy's sturdy build, which was an obvious contrast with my son.

A smug look flashed through Derek's eyes, and he smiled as he patted his son, acting like the man of the house.

"Tommy, be good. Hurry and share the toys Mrs. Sullivan bought with your little brother."

But Tommy cried as he hugged two identical toy cars tightly in his arms, lying on the floor and rolling around.

"No, no! Mrs. Sullivan bought all of these for me!"

Derek pretended to scold him a couple of times, and said awkwardly:

"Sorry, brother-in-law. This kid is usually spoiled by Jasmine..."

I subconsciously looked toward Ethan. Every time it was like this, he would always cry and make a huge scene.

But now his face was calm.

"Then Ethan won't have them. Leave them all for big brother."

A sharp pain stabbed at the tip of my heart. He already knew that an unloved child had no reason to cry and make a scene anymore.

Guilt flashed in Jasmine's eyes.

She reached out wanting to hug me, but I turned sideways and avoided her by taking something.

Displeasure flashed through her eyes, and the earlier guilt was swept away.

"When did you get so petty? Why are you getting mad at a kid?"

I froze for a moment, then calmly handed her the test report I'd picked up.

"I just wanted to tell you—our son is sick. It's serious. Acute lymphoblastic leukemia."

"If we don't find a matching bone marrow donor soon, he might… die."