Chapter 6: The Family I No Longer Wanted

Cheryl stood outside the gate for a long time after I went inside.

Through the living-room window, I could see her holding Jasper's hand beneath the cherry tree. Neither of them moved.

Beatrix placed her bag on the sofa and looked at me carefully.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She gave me a look that made it obvious she didn't believe me.

"You know, that's usually what people say when they're very much not fine."

I smiled faintly.

"Then I'm slightly less fine than usual."

She didn't laugh.

Instead, she walked into the kitchen and poured me a glass of water.

"I don't understand half of what just happened out there," she said. "But I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"For thinking you invented them."

I shook my head. "You had every reason to think that."

If our positions had been reversed, I probably would have reached the same conclusion.

A wife and son with no photographs, no marriage registration, no birth certificate, no school records, and not a single neighbor who remembered them sounded less like a family and more like a delusion.

Beatrix glanced toward the window.

"Are you really going to leave them outside?"

I followed her gaze.

Jasper was sitting on the curb now, his head resting against Cheryl's arm.

Six months ago, I wouldn't have been able to bear the sight.

I would have rushed outside, carried him in, warmed some milk, found his favorite blanket, and spent the entire night trying to make him smile.

That Kevin was gone.

"They have somewhere to go," I said.

"Are you sure?"

"No."

Beatrix remained silent.

I knew what she was thinking.

Jasper was only five.

Whatever Cheryl had taught him, whatever cruel things he had said to me, he had learned them from an adult he trusted.

He wasn't responsible for the choices that had brought him here.

I knew all of that.

Knowing it didn't magically restore the love that had been worn away piece by piece.

There was a knock at the door.

Then another.

"Kevin," Cheryl called from outside. "Please. Just give me ten minutes."

I closed my eyes.

Beatrix picked up her bag.

"I'll go home."

"You don't have to."

"You need to deal with this."

Before leaving through the back door, she paused beside me.

"You don't owe anyone reconciliation just because they're sorry. But whatever you decide, make sure it's something you can live with afterward."

After she left, I waited another minute before opening the front door.

Cheryl immediately stepped forward.

"Thank you."

"Ten minutes."

She nodded quickly.

I let them into the living room.

Jasper looked around as though he had returned to a sacred place.

His eyes moved from the sofa to the television, then to the small marks on the wall where I used to measure his height.

The System had erased the written dates beside those marks, but the tiny scratches remained.

Jasper ran toward the hallway.

"My room!"

"Jasper," Cheryl called.

He had already disappeared upstairs.

A moment later, I heard a confused cry.

He came running back down.

"Mommy! My room is gone!"

I had turned it into a small home gym two months after they disappeared.

The race-car bed was gone.

The shelves of toys were gone.

The glow-in-the-dark stars I had stuck to his ceiling one by one were gone.

Jasper stared at me in horror.

"Where are my toys?"

"I donated them."

His mouth fell open.

"All of them?"

"Yes."

His eyes immediately filled with tears.

"But those were mine!"

"You left them behind."

"I was coming back!"

The words came out with the absolute certainty only a child could have.

I looked at Cheryl.

She lowered her eyes.

"No, Jasper. You weren't."

His face crumpled.

"Mommy said we'd visit!"

That was interesting.

"Did she?"

Jasper nodded furiously.

"She said after we found Daddy Gavin, maybe we could come visit Kevin sometime."

Kevin.

Even while begging to return to my house, the old habit slipped out.

Cheryl's face turned red.

"Jasper, that's enough."

I wasn't angry.

Strangely, hearing it only made my decision clearer.

I turned to Cheryl.

"Your ten minutes are running."

She took a shaky breath.

"The System gave me another mission."

I frowned.

"What mission?"

For several seconds, she didn't answer.

Then the mechanical voice sounded.

"Return mission: restore the target's affection level to fifty percent."

I almost laughed.

Of course.

Even her return had a mission attached to it.

Cheryl hurriedly said, "I didn't ask for it!"

"Then why accept it?"

"Because it was the only way back here."

"Exactly."

She stared at me.

"You still don't understand, do you?" I said.

"Understand what?"

"You have never chosen me when there wasn't something in it for you."

Her lips parted.

"The first time, you came because Gavin wanted good fortune. This time, you came because Gavin rejected you and the System offered you another mission."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

"I came because Jasper needed his father!"

"Six months ago, you told him I wasn't his father."

She had no answer.

The System suddenly spoke again.

"Current target affection level: zero percent."

The room became completely silent.

Cheryl's face turned deathly pale.

"Zero?"

She whispered the word as though she had been stabbed.

"That's impossible."

The System repeated itself.

"Current target affection level: zero percent."

Cheryl stared at me.

For nine years, she had chased that number.

She had celebrated every increase and panicked at every decrease.

At one point, she had pushed it to ninety-nine.

Now there was nothing left.

"Kevin..."

I felt unexpectedly peaceful.

The number didn't shock me.

It merely confirmed what I already knew.

I no longer loved Cheryl.

Not secretly.

Not beneath the anger.

Not in some forgotten corner of my heart.

There was nothing.

Cheryl suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Give me another chance."

I pulled my hand free.

"Why? So you can get it to fifty and complete another mission?"

"Forget the mission!"

She shouted so loudly Jasper jumped.

Cheryl immediately lowered her voice.

"I don't care about the mission anymore."

The System issued a warning.

"Host, abandoning an accepted return mission will result in permanent separation from this world."

Cheryl froze.

"What does permanent separation mean?"

"You and the dependent entity will be forcibly returned to your origin world. Further crossings will be prohibited."

Dependent entity.

That was how it referred to Jasper.

Cheryl clenched her fists.

"How long do I have?"

"Thirty days."

She looked at me desperately.

I almost admired the absurdity of it.

Nine years of marriage had been reduced to another countdown.

"Kevin, just let us stay for thirty days."

"No."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me immediately."

"You're asking to live in my house."

"Jasper has nowhere else here."

"The System brought you here. It can provide somewhere for you to stay."

As if responding to me, the System said, "Temporary accommodation has been assigned."

Cheryl's expression collapsed.

I opened the door.

"There. Problem solved."

Jasper began crying again.

"Daddy, please!"

I looked at him.

This time, instead of turning away immediately, I crouched.

"Jasper, listen to me."

He wiped his eyes.

"You didn't deserve what Gavin's family did to you."

He sniffled.

"But I'm not going to pretend the last five years didn't happen either."

"I'll be good."

"This isn't about being good."

He didn't understand.

How could he?

"Your mom told you Gavin was your real dad, and you believed her. I don't hate you for that."

"Then you still love me?"

My throat tightened.

That question hurt more than anything Cheryl had said.

I could have lied.

For five years, I had been lied to every day in the name of keeping a family together.

I wouldn't continue that tradition.

"I don't know what I feel anymore."

Jasper stared at me.

Cheryl covered her mouth.

I stood.

"Your ten minutes are over."

They left.

For the next week, Cheryl came every day.

Sometimes she brought Jasper.

Sometimes she came alone.

She cooked dishes I used to like, only to discover my tastes had changed.

She bought me the watch I had once admired in a store window, unaware that I had stopped wearing watches after she left.

She recreated our first date.

She even wore the same pale-blue dress she had worn nine years ago.

None of it worked.

Every night, the System announced the same number.

"Target affection level: zero percent."

On the eighth day, Cheryl finally broke down.

"Why isn't anything working?"

I was trimming the cherry tree when she asked.

"Because you're trying to recreate a man who doesn't exist anymore."

"You're still Kevin."

"No."

I cut away a dead branch.

"The Kevin you knew spent nine years waiting for you to mean one of your promises."

Another branch fell.

"He died the night you completed your mission."

Cheryl started crying.

I continued trimming the tree.

For once, her tears didn't make me turn around.