Mother there is only one

For four years of college, I was Mike's fallback option.

On the eve of graduation, his first love left the country, and I thought I'd found my chance.

To be with Mike, I took on raising his daughter with his first love.

The child was innocent, Mike was distant, and my mother-in-law was mean.

I poured in two years of effort, only to be seen as a free nanny in their eyes.

So I gathered my trampled dignity and cut all ties with Mike.

Without me, he never stopped thinking of me until his dying day.

1

During a team-building trip in Silverwood, I got a call from Mike.

It had been a year since we last spoke.

"Scarlett, I… I'm really out of options," he said. "Can you… maybe look after Eva for a few days?"

Suppressing a flicker of excitement, I said I'd think about it.

But by the next morning, I'd made up my mind.

I used up all my vacation days and booked the earliest flight.

The scenery flashing by the window pulled my thoughts back to college.

Mike and I both came from small towns, scraping by on 500 a month from work-study jobs.

We met at the school's finance office, picking up our paychecks.

One summer, my shorts had shallow pockets, and I was rushing to the cafeteria for discounted food. Five crisp hundred-dollar bills fell to the ground without me noticing.

I sprinted to the cafeteria, but the cheap dishes were sold out.

Mike, panting from chasing me, tapped my shoulder as I stood disappointed at the counter. "Hey, you're running like crazy to eat here… You dropped your money, you know?"

I checked my pockets, realized he was right, and grabbed his hand in a flurry of thanks.

Mike was tall and fit, with a faint resemblance to a pop star, his forehead damp from chasing me down.

Smitten by his looks, I insisted on treating him to a chicken drumstick meal as a thank-you.

Grinning at Mike, I said, "The braised drumstick is cheap and tasty. The cook always gives me the big one. Dig in!"

Later, I invited Mike to eat together often, and we grew closer.

At first, we did odd jobs like cleaning labs or shelving library books.

Eventually, we gave those gigs to needier students and pooled our savings to start a small business.

We haggled with wholesalers, thrilled to shave even a penny off costs.

To save money, we took buses back to campus, even when lugging heavy bags.

Mike always bought me a drink on the way. "Little girl, you're so strong."

I'd shoot him a proud glare.

We ran a dorm store, earning cash by delivering orders.

I handled the girls' dorms, Mike the boys'.

One summer noon, after delivering dozens of orders and climbing countless stairs, I collapsed in a hallway before reaching my dorm.

The dorm supervisor pinched my philtrum until I came to, and my roommate had already called Mike.

That night, Mike borrowed a hot pot and made me soup.

"You got heatstroke. You're probably still queasy, so just have some soup."

I was overjoyed, seeing the concern in his eyes.

That bowl of soup tasted amazing, like he was returning my feelings.

But then Adele came along, and my bond with Mike fell apart.

2

Our dorm store gained steady customers under Mike's and my management.

After discussing, we hired two hardworking students from poor families to help with deliveries.

Mike and I focused more on our studies, knowing that for people like us, education was the only way out.

We also joined a volunteer group, hoping to help others.

At the volunteer group's recruitment event, Mike and I met Adele.

She was a year ahead, the group's leader.

During her speech, her tone was gentle.

But beneath that softness was a commanding strength that made people trust and follow her.

During my interview, Adele smiled and asked, "Why do you want to join the volunteer group?"

"I just… want to do some good." I was a year younger, but she seemed far more mature.

"It's great to offer kindness where you can, but always keep yourself safe."

Later, another leader told me Adele had once been harassed by a male worker while volunteering at a nursing home.

She fought back fiercely until others found her.

I thought she'd be traumatized, but after a brief rest, she returned to lead volunteer activities.

When I told Mike about it, he admired Adele's strength.

But I didn't notice the pity in Mike's eyes.

After that, Mike always stayed close to Adele during volunteer work.

The way he looked at her, so intense, left my heart cold.

We still studied together in the library and ate in the cafeteria, but Mike felt more distant.

At a volunteer group gathering, a girl noticed Adele's bracelet was from Van Cleef & Arpels. "That's over ten grand! She's so rich!"

One bracelet cost what Mike and I lived on for a year.

"No way it's fake. I saw her wearing a gorgeous skirt last time. I looked it up, super niche brand, five grand!"

"God, the gap between people is insane…"

Two girls whispered, Mike's face paled, but Adele brushed it off.

Only someone truly wealthy could be so nonchalant, a spark of hope flickering in me.

But love didn't care about class.

One night, Mike and I went to a dive bar near campus for a treat. Mike ordered a case of beer.

Before I could stop him, he started chugging glass after glass.

He wasn't a strong drinker and passed out by the campus flowerbeds, mumbling, "My love is beyond mountains and seas, and they cannot be crossed…"

Adele was his unreachable love, just as Mike was mine.

That sense of fate left me numb by the flowerbeds all night.

But when he sobered up, Mike worked harder to win Adele.

I watched him grind for grades, join projects, and network with seniors about jobs. He got busier.

I didn't interfere. I had no right to stop him from improving or loving someone else.

On Valentine's Day in sophomore year, Mike gave Adele a gold necklace in front of the whole volunteer group.

He knelt on one knee and confessed, "Adele, you're kind and driven. I like you. I'm not good enough yet, but please give me a chance."