Obsession
PROLOGUE · PART ONE
Obsession
Susan
Everywhere was red: the room, the bed, the once-vibrant orchids, even the sun filtering through the window. Not only that—this life, my life—all seemed futile. Men worked hard all their lives to die in pain and sorrow.
If only I could turn back time. Or summon some magical genie-like being from my grandniece's Disney movies. I’d give up every ounce of wealth I’ve accumulated over the years just to save my son’s life. I would do it without hesitation, without a second thought.
But Michael was slipping away before my eyes, his life ebbing with each shallow breath, and I was helpless. The doctors were of no use now. They stood there, heads bowed, unable to offer me the tired consolation of, “We tried our best.”
“Mom, look at me. Please, stop crying. I want to see your smile one last time.”
That was Michael—always so selfless, even in his final moments. He was the kind of person who could light up even the darkest heart and turn the bleakest day into something bright and hopeful. And now, I was losing him.
“I’m trying,” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my desperate attempts to steady it.
“It’s not so hard, you know,” he said, his hand—once warm and full of life—reaching up to touch my face. His fingers were ice-cold now, starkly contrasting with the warmth they once held.
I grasped his hand, trying to give him the strength I no longer had. But at that moment, I realized it wasn’t about me. It was about him. It was about letting him go, even when I didn’t know how.
“I love you, Mom… so, so much,” Michael whispered, his voice barely more than a fragile breath.
Tears stung my eyes, but I forced a smile, even though the ache in my heart felt like it would tear me apart. “I love you more, Michael. So much more.”
I was crumbling inside, breaking under the weight of helplessness. Please, God, I begged silently, don’t let this happen. Not to him. Not yet.
Michael took a shaky breath, his chest barely rising as he struggled to speak again. “I want you to… find happiness… that’s why….”
How could I find happiness without him? The thought was unbearable. I lowered my head, resting it against his cold chest. I couldn’t tell him I’d be okay. He would know I was lying.
“I will try to find happiness,” I whispered. If this lie would ease his mind, I’d repeat it a thousand times.
“Thank you, Mom,” he whispered.
“Anything for you,” I said.
Michael struggled again. “Speaking of… I have something else to say.”
“What is it?” I asked, closing my eyes, trying to memorize this moment.
“I have a daughter.”
My eyes flew open. “You have a daughter?” I whispered.
“Or… a son,” he murmured, his voice growing weaker every second.