Chapter 223

Chapter 223
Vivian’s POV

 

I frowned, stood up, and said coldly, “What are you doing here?”

 

Before Dylan could speak, Allen popped his head out from behind the tent, grinning: “Mommy, I asked Daddy to come. I was worried it wouldn't be safe at night, and with Daddy here, we won't have to be afraid.”

 

The reason sounded perfectly legitimate.

 

But in the look he cast toward Dylan, there was clearly a hint of triumph.

 

Looking at this father and son, I saw through this “coincidence” in an instant, but I couldn’t be bothered to call it out.

 

I crouched back down to continue setting up my tent. Dylan didn’t say anything either; he bent over to pick up the poles from the other side and began setting up his own tent in silence.

 

I kept my head down, focusing on the poles in my hands, deliberately avoiding Dylan’s gaze. We were separated by a few meters of grass, both busy at work, as if only Allen and I were in this campsite and he was nothing more than a superfluous shadow.

 

I finished the tent, dusted off my hands, and told Allen, “I’m going to go find some firewood. You stay here.”

 

I turned and walked deep into the woods.

 

Autumn leaves carpeted the ground, crunching beneath my feet. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting mottled shadows on the ground.

 

I had just picked up a few dry branches when, suddenly, a strange voice rang out from not far away:

 

“Hey, beautiful. Camping alone?”

 

I turned to see a young man standing a few steps away, staring straight at me.

 

I ignored him and walked right past him with the wood I’d gathered.

 

The man, however, had the audacity to follow, his tone growing more insistent: “Don’t be so cold. Let’s be friends. Give me your WhatsApp, and we can hang out when you’re free.”

 

“Do you come here often? I’m very familiar with this area; I can be your guide.”

 

I stopped and refused coldly: “Not interested.”

 

I walked around him and continued forward.

 

“Mommy! Mommy!” Allen came running from the distance, breathless. He rushed to my side, glared at the man suspiciously, his voice clear and loud: “Mommy, who is this?”

 

I said flatly, “I don’t know him.”

 

Allen immediately grabbed my hand, looked up at me, and raised his voice specifically so the man could hear every word:

 

“Mommy, let’s go back. Daddy is grilling meat, and he’s waiting for you to come eat.”

 

The man looked at Allen, then at me, twitched his mouth awkwardly, and slinked away.

 

I looked down at Allen. He was looking up at me with a proud smile.

 

I didn’t say a word, just held his hand and walked back.

 

When we returned to the campsite, Dylan was already setting up the grill. The charcoal was burning bright red, and skewers of beef were sizzling on the rack. Grease dripped down, and a mouth-watering, smoky aroma filled the valley.

 

I had brought some simple snacks and instant food, but Dylan had brought far more: a grill, pans, various meats, and vegetables—he’d practically moved half a kitchen out here.

 

Allen was thrilled, circling the grill.

 

He was busy handing Dylan seasonings one moment and helping me with plates the next.

 

Dylan’s grilling skills were indeed excellent. The beef was charred on the outside and tender on the inside. Sprinkled with cumin and chili powder, the scent wafted wantonly through the mountain air.

 

Allen’s mouth was covered in grease, and he kept mumbling, “Daddy’s grilled meat is the best!”

 

The three of us sat around the grill, and a rare warmth began to emerge.

 

Night fell, and the stars dotted the sky like diamonds scattered on velvet.

 

When Allen was full, he started getting sleepy. His head rested on my shoulder, his eyelids growing heavy, and he fell asleep in no time.

 

I carried him into the tent, carefully tucked him in, and let my hand linger on his forehead for a moment before turning to walk out.

 

Outside, Dylan was still sitting by the grill.

 

The charcoal had died down, leaving only dark red embers glowing in the night.

 

I stood before him, looking him in the eye without sitting down.

 

“What exactly do you want?” I asked, getting straight to the point, my face as cold as frost.

 

Dylan looked up, meeting my gaze: “Allen is still young; he needs his parents around. I just want to give him a normal family.”

 

I let out a cold laugh, my eyes like blades, as if I wanted to peel off his mask of hypocrisy.

 

“A normal family?”

 

“Dylan, you’re talking to me about a normal family? We’re already divorced. How long have you been hiding this from him? Do you plan to hide it for his entire life? Until he grows up and discovers the truth for himself?”

 

“Or are you going to wait until he’s at school and his classmates ask him, ‘Are your parents divorced?’ before you tell him?”

 

Dylan stayed silent.

 

I didn’t give him room to breathe, pressing him step by step:

 

“And what about Hazel? She’s been with you for so many years; it’s impossible you don't know how she feels. Can you just watch her linger by your side with no status, no name?”

 

Dylan moved his lips, his voice low and raspy: “I’ll handle it.”

 

I laughed coldly again.

 

“You’ll handle it? You’ve been ‘handling’ it for so long—what’s the result? How long did you drag out the divorce filing? Have you ever given Hazel a clear answer?”

 

“And Allen, have you mentioned a single word to him? You’ve done nothing. You just stand there, letting everyone revolve around you, waiting for you to make a decision. That isn’t being responsible; that’s draining everyone around you.”

 

I took a deep breath, my voice low but every word striking like a hammer:

 

“One week. Either you tell Allen yourself, or I will. You choose.”

 

Dylan looked up, his expression shifting.

 

“Allen is your own flesh and blood. How can you be so cruel to him?” His voice was low and hoarse, as if suppressing some hidden emotion.

 

I looked directly at him, not backing down.

 

I said seriously, “But I am Vivian first, and Allen’s mother second.”

 

“In this world, any woman can give birth to a child, but not every woman can reach my heights in her career. Allen’s life should be lived by him, not protected by some fake fairy tale written by adults.”

 

“You protect him, but can you protect him for his whole life? When he grows up and realizes the world isn't what he imagined, he’ll only hate you for it.”

 

After I finished, I watched his face shift between light and shadow in the moonlight; the expression was too complex to decipher.

 

After a long time, Dylan spoke.

 

His voice was extremely faint: “I will tell him.”

 

I replied with no lack of irony: “That would be for the best.”

 

With that, I turned toward the tent, unzipped it, and slipped inside.

 

Dylan didn't follow.

 

Outside the tent, it was silent, save for the sound of mountain wind through the treetops and the chirping of nameless insects in the distance.

 

Allen was sleeping deeply, his cheek buried in the pillow, his breathing steady.

 

I lay down beside him, pulled the sleeping bag tight, and closed my eyes.

 

The next morning, we drove back to Oceancrest City separately. I stared at the car ahead of me until, at a traffic light in the city center, Dylan’s car turned and pulled away from mine, eventually merging into the heavy traffic and disappearing at the edge of my vision.