Chapter 4

"Grandpa, I'm Fiona, your darling granddaughter."

George came to his senses: "Fiona has grown up. Grandpa is old now, my eyes are failing me."

I giggled coquettishly, casually withdrawing my hand.

Back in my own room, I pulled out an old photograph hidden in a secret compartment of my wardrobe.

On the yellowed photo paper, a young woman was holding a baby in swaddling clothes, smiling serenely and happily at the camera.

It was a photo taken on my full-month birthday, and the only photo of me and Mother together.

At that time, Mother was still immersed in false happiness, her smile untainted.

Rose had once told me some old stories about Mother.

Mother was malnourished as a child and had a weak constitution. She nearly lost her life due to massive bleeding when giving birth to me.

Because of her postpartum weakness, she could hardly produce any milk.

And I was a particularly greedy baby, often sucking Mother until she bled, refusing to let go even then.

To avoid starving me, Mother carefully selected Rose from among a hundred wet nurses.

Rose told me these things intending to boast about herself.

But what I cared about was how difficult it was for Mother to give birth to me, and how much it hurt when I sucked her raw.

My thoughts returned to the present.

My gaze slowly moved from the photo to the dressing table mirror.

I hadn't noticed that I was looking more and more like Mother.

Looking at that overly delicate face in the mirror, only twelve years old.

Thinking of the way Grandfather held my hand and called me "Yvonne."

I finally understood what Grandfather had done to Mother every night during those years Father was abroad.