The Reclaimed Rose (Annalise and Steven) novel Chapter 3

Steven gripped my chin with his other hand. His grip was firm and unyielding, preventing me from turning away. Following that, his lips pressed down on mine.

"You'll enjoy it."

…

Zachary was in his final year of kindergarten. School started at 8:00 am sharp every day.

The kindergarten was a 20-minute drive from home. To make sure he wasn't late, we would leave by 7:30 am every morning, so I woke up at 6:30 am to prepare breakfast.

That morning's breakfast was simple—ravioli I had prepared the night before.

What was a bit more work was the soup base. I had to make fresh chicken soup.

I laid some herbs at the bottom of the pot, placed a whole cleaned chicken inside, and added some vegetables on top. I covered the pot and let it boil on high heat.

Once it started boiling, I lifted the lid, and the rich aroma of chicken soup filled the kitchen. I added a bit of salt, then lowered the heat to let it simmer.

After finishing everything, I left the kitchen satisfied and went to the walk-in closet to pick out outfits for Zachary and Steven.

Steven, as the CEO of his company, dressed more formally. Zachary, being a child, mostly wore comfortable and practical clothes.

Once I laid out the outfits in their respective bedrooms, they were almost done getting ready.

I took that opportunity to ladle the chicken soup and cook the ravioli. The chicken soup was already hot, so it didn't take long to boil. I put enough ravioli for all three of us into the pot and waited quietly for it to cook.

"Mommy!"

I turned around upon hearing Zachary's angry voice and saw him rushing toward me with his tablet.

He was furious. "Did you delete Ms. Jessie's contact and leave the group chat we were in?"

I looked at his flushed, angry face and shook my head. "No."

But I could understand Zachary's feelings. He was still too young to grasp right from wrong.

In his eyes, Jessica let him indulge in things. He could eat freely and play as he pleased. So, to him, Jessica was his favorite person.

Even if we adults cut off his connection with Jessica for his own good, he wouldn't be able to accept it.

I had prepared myself for his anger, but I hadn't expected his words to be so hurtful.

"Who else would do that other than you?" Zachary glared at me. "No wonder everyone says Daddy doesn't like you! Women like you, who want to control every detail of other people's lives, don't deserve to be loved!"

Even though I had anticipated him losing control and saying extreme things, I still told myself that I should be understanding. I was his mother, after all.

However, I overestimated myself. His words were like a sharp arrow, effortlessly piercing through my tough facade and driving deep into my heart.

So I was really so detestable in Zachary's eyes?

My hand trembled uncontrollably. "Daddy doesn't like me? Then, who does he like?"

Zachary puffed his cheeks. "Ms. Jessie, of course! He told me himself that he liked her long before!"

"Really?" My mind went blank. "How do you know this?"

Zachary tilted his head. "Daddy told me, of course. Why else would he always take me to play with Ms. Jessie?"

His innocent, straightforward response only made his words sting more.

True. If Steven didn't like Jessica, he wouldn't have kept in contact with her. Their recent interactions had been unnervingly frequent.

Steven's feelings for Jessica were clear. It felt as though a large hand was gripping my heart tightly. In that instant, a sharp pain shot through me.

"Daddy must really like Ms. Jessie. The way he looks at her is different from how he looks at you.

"He said he hasn't divorced you yet because he doesn't want me to end up in a single-parent family like you, as it could be bad for my development.

"He's also worried that if he divorces you, you'll cling to him or hurt someone out of control."

I looked at Zachary, who was only five years old, his voice still soft and innocent. But the things he said were far beyond what I could imagine—so extreme and hurtful.

I tried to convince myself that he was only saying these things because he was upset. But my hands still trembled uncontrollably.

Just then, the ravioli was done. The aroma filled my nose.

I forced myself not to think about Zachary's words as I served him a bowl. Worried it might be too hot for him, I placed it on the table. "Eat up."

However, Zachary took the bowl with both hands and slammed it onto the floor.

The bowl shattered with a loud crash, and the chicken ravioli soup splattered everywhere.