Chapter 414: The Son Who Stayed, and the Son Who Was Lost
Darcy excused himself quietly after the conversation, his feet dragging across the uneven floorboards as he walked toward his room. The moment he closed his bedroom door behind him, Flora’s sniffing and sobbing were cut off.
The room was cramped, almost suffocating, without a window, and the air felt too stale. The single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling gave a weak yellow glow that flickered now and then, making the room feel unstable.
Darcy sat down on the narrow bed, eyes glued to the test results in his hands.
He stared at them in silence, but the words jumbled in front of his eyes. He tried to focus, to analyse, to make sense of the result. Yet, his mind was blank. A thick fog seemed to cloud every direction, feeding the deep fear gnawing him. A fear of the unknown. Of what might tomorrow look like? What would happen next?
Should he fold the papers up, shove them into a drawer, and pretend they didn’t exist? Could he just live his life the same way, ignoring what had been revealed?
Could he not care about it? Not caring about who his biological parents were? What about his mum and Nora? Wouldn’t they want to know the boy who had been taken from them at birth? Should he help them search for him? Then what? Leave the Edwood family?
He leaned back until his head rested on the wall, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
When their biological son returned, wouldn’t everything be awkward with him staying here?
Then what if he decided to ignore the test result, living as their son...Would Flora feel disappointed that she couldn’t see her biological son?
Darcy paused. During their conversation, Flora had never once mentioned wanting to see her biological son. Not even hinted at it. Which mother would not be curious about her own blood and flesh? Especially now, after his father had passed away. A lonely widow, a fragile, sick mother, she surely would want to meet her true child, to see what he had become.
So why hadn’t she said anything?
Darcy shut his eyes. Was it because of him? Was she holding back, being considerate? Or... didn’t want to burden her own son with her illness?
Darcy pinched the inside of his arm hard, until it stung. His thoughts had become too dark, too cruel. Yes, he had always felt it was unfair to carry the family’s responsibility on his own. That he was under pressure all the time. Yet, he never blamed his mother for it. So why now? Why did he suddenly feel resentful, questioning her motives?
He rubbed his face with both hands, feeling frustrated and disgusted by himself.
His hand moved toward his phone automatically. He picked it up, and the black screen lit up. He tapped on Micah’s number. He wanted to talk to him, hearing his voice, his grumbling about trivial things. But the line didn’t connect. Still switched off.
He lowered his head, pressing the palms of his hands to his forehead. He felt utterly alone. Confused and scared of what the future would bring.
He had never been good with people. He wasn’t charming like Micah, who would walk into the room and draw everyone’s eyes with a careless grin. He knew himself the best: cold, distant, and indifferent most of the time. When it came to feelings, his words always faltered, stuck in his throat.
He knew he would distance himself from Flora and Nora after this. Not intentionally. But his heart would get closed off to protect himself. He feared having expectations. He had learned the moment their father died that people changed their faces in a second. The relatives distanced themselves so as not to bring their misfortune into their lives. Neighbours who used to smile avoided their eyes. Even the boy next door had said he didn’t like to play with an orphan, with someone poor.
From that day on, he told himself he didn’t need anyone’s care or love. Better go rely only on himself. But then Micah had appeared, changing everything. Falling in love with him had been sweet and unbearably bitter at the same time. Because Darcy knew the boy didn’t see him that way. That was why he had never crossed the line. Even though he saw Clyde, even though he saw how they got close, his fear of losing Micah completely held him back from confessing. He was happy with their relationship. At least he could see Micah. He could talk to him.
But now, after Micah disappeared, he realised how foolish he was. Their connection was that feeble. Easily disconnected. Easily snapped. He couldn’t demand more. He was just a friend, wasn’t he?
He sighed and put his phone away. His gaze returned to the test results.
He didn’t care about who his biological parents were. He didn’t want to know. Nothing good would come of it. Nothing in his life would change except the addition of a new burden he didn’t need.
He couldn’t leave his mum and little sister anyway. But maybe if he said that, Flora could search for her biological son without any guilt. Maybe the real son would turn out to be someone strong, someone capable of helping her through her illness.
Darcy clenched his fists. He wasn’t selfish.
The night passed with no sleep. He lay awake, turning on the bed, staring into the dark ceiling.
By the time morning came, his body ached with fatigue. His eyes burned.
He stood up anyway and left the room.
In the kitchen, he filled the kettle and waited. The faint sound of water bubbling was the only sound in the house. He reached for a mug, poured the instant coffee.
Flora opened her door and looked at him. Her face was pale, her eyes puffy and red.
Their eyes met.
"Mum... how do I find them?" he said, voice calm and flat without a rise and fall.
Flora’s heart squeezed, her eyes softening with sorrow. But she nodded. "I’ll give the hospital a call. They said if you decide to look for your biological parents, they’ll send a lawyer to help."
Darcy gave a small nod and took a sip from his coffee. Bitter. Just like his life.