My Son Learned To Say Goodbye Before I Did Chapter 10

My Son Learned To Say Goodbye Before I Did Chapter 10

Grant rushed to the airport overnight.

But the earliest flight was already sold out.

So he sat alone in the airport terminal until dawn.

During that time, he called me dozens of times. He sent hundreds of messages.

[Celeste, I know I was wrong.]

[Where are you? Just let me see you.]

[Is Eli okay? I never meant to hurt you both.]

[Please answer me.]

I didn’t read a single one.

By the time our plane landed in a new place, Eli had already fallen asleep.

His small head rested against my shoulder.

There were still faint dried tear marks clinging to his eyelashes.

I carried him off the plane and took a taxi to the hotel I had booked in advance.

It was late at night. The wind in this city felt damp.

The taxi sped across brightly lit overpasses.

Eli woke up once during the ride and asked sleepily, “Mom, are we gonna live here from now on?”

I gently stroked his hair.

“For now, yes. Mommy’s gonna get you a new home.”

He nodded and burrowed closer. “No Uncle Grant in the new home, right?”

I swallowed hard. “That’s right. It’ll just be the two of us.”

At the hotel, I turned my phone on. The screen flooded—missed calls, messages. All from Grant.

I only glanced at them once before deleting everything. Then I blocked his number completely.

Eli came out of the shower and stood there, watching me delete the messages.

“Mom… did he look for us?”

I didn’t lie to him. “Yes.”

Eli looked down, picking at the hem of his pajama sleeve.

“Then… are you going back?”

I crouched down and looked directly into his eyes.

“No. Mommy promises you. We’re not going back.”

At last, he let out a small sigh of relief.

That night, I held Eli close. He was restless—woke up twice in the night.

Each time, the first thing he did was reach for my hand.

He would open his eyes every few minutes to make sure I was still there. Then he would fall asleep again.

A little past two in the morning, someone started pounding on the door.

“Celeste! Celeste, open the door!”

Grant’s voice sounded hoarse and frantic.

Eli jolted awake, face pale, grabbing my arm.

I slipped on a coat and walked to the door. Through the peephole, I saw Grant standing outside.

His hair was disheveled. His shirt was wrinkled beyond recognition. His eyes were bloodshot enough to look frightening.

I left the chain on and opened the door just a crack.

“What are you doing here?”

The moment Grant saw me, his eyes reddened instantly.

“Celeste, I was wrong—I know I was wrong.”

“I didn’t know Sabrina had been lying to me the whole time.”

“I didn’t know how much I’d hurt you. Both of you.”

His voice shook violently. “Can we not do this? The divorce?”

“I’ll never see her again—I swear. I’ll make it up to you. Both of you.”

I looked at him calmly.

Once, I would’ve killed to hear those words. Now that he’d finally said them, I felt nothing.

“Grant, you already signed the divorce papers. I’ll be finalizing the paperwork tomorrow.”

The color drained from his face. Then—he begged me desperately.

“Celeste, please—one more chance. If not for me, then for Eli.”

At the mention of Eli’s name, my eyes went cold. “Now you remember Eli?”

Grant opened his mouth but couldn’t say a word.

Soft footsteps came from behind me. Eli stood there clutching his little dinosaur toy.

He looked at Grant, standing in the hallway—and his face was calm. Too calm.

Like a drowning man spotting a lifeline, Grant immediately reached out toward him.

“Eli—I’m here. Can you talk to Mommy for me?”

“I don’t want this. The divorce.”

He thought Eli would soften. After all, Eli used to be glued to him.

Every time Grant came home, Eli would run over and hug his leg tightly while calling out “Daddy” again and again.

But this time, Eli only took half a step backward behind me.

Then he said quietly, “Uncle Grant, go be with your other kid. Stop bothering us.”

Grant froze. His hand hung there, in midair.

“Eli, I’m your dad. Why are you calling me Uncle?”

Eli looked at him. His eyes were red, but he didn’t cry.

“You stopped wanting us first.”

Grant’s lips trembled. “I never stopped wanting you.”

Eli shook his head. “You did.”

“I wanted to go to Adventure Kingdom for my birthday. You said it was childish. Then you took Milo.”

“When I had a 103 degree fever, Mommy carried me to the hospital all by herself.”

“You got a phone call—and you left. For Milo.”

“I couldn’t even hear right that night, my fever was so high. But I kept asking Mommy—when’s Daddy coming back?”

Grant’s face went pale with guilt.

Eli went on, “Parent-teacher conference day. You promised you’d come.”

“I practiced my essay many times. The title was ‘My Dad.'”

“But you never showed up.”

“When the teacher asked where my dad was, I had to take Mommy’s phone and tell the class group chat my dad couldn’t make it.”

At last, tears finally fell from Grant’s eyes. “Eli…”

“And the family portrait.” Eli’s voice choked slightly.

“I waited two whole weeks. I even picked out my clothes. Then Milo called—and you left. Again.”

“Later, you said you’d make it up to me by taking me to Adventure Kingdom.”

“I really believed you again. But you still didn’t come.”

At this point, he finally raised his hand and wiped his eyes.

“We waited long enough. Mommy and me. We don’t need you anymore.”

It was like Grant had been slapped across the face.

Still standing outside the door, his entire body looked unsteady.

“Eli—I was wrong. I’ll stay with you every day. I promise.”

Eli shook his head. “No. Go be with Milo. You like him better anyway.”

Grant closed his eyes in agony.

“That’s not true. It’s not.”

But Eli no longer wanted to listen. He reached out and slowly pushed the door closed.

“Goodnight, Uncle Grant.”

Through the closing gap, I saw Grant—still stood there, tears hitting the carpet.

Eli turned around and hugged me tightly. His small body trembled hard against mine.

“Mommy, hug me.”

I picked him up. He buried his face in my neck.

“Mommy… am I a bad kid? Is he gonna be really sad? Because of what I said?”

My eyes stung. “You’re not bad, Eli.”

“His sadness is not your fault. It’s his. To carry.”

That night, Grant stood outside our door until morning. I never opened it.

And Eli never asked about him again.