Over the next few days, I clearly sensed that Samantha and Edmund were watching me.

I quietly accepted every arrangement they made for me and acted as though I trusted their words without question. In the middle of the night, I would sometimes pretend to wake from nightmares, drenched in sweat, tearfully calling out for the imaginary son.

I played the part of a defeated man who could not accept his own loss of manhood.

It seemed to ease their vigilance.

That afternoon, Edmund took me for fresh air in the residential garden as usual. Across the street from the park, a street vendor happened to be calling out, selling hot pretzels.

"Oh, the pretzel vendor is here," Edmund said cheerfully. "Sam mentioned this morning that she was craving one. I was planning to pick some up at the market after work, but this is perfect timing. Norman, stay here and wait for me. You're not fully recovered yet, so don't wander off."

I gave a dull nod and stared after him as he walked off. With the house momentarily empty of supervision, I finally had a window to act.

My parents passed away long ago. The only brother I trusted lived in another city. Even my phone wasn't mine anymore. Samantha had taken it, insisting I needed to rest. I had no way to call anyone.

Just then, an elderly woman pedaling an old cargo tricycle appeared. I recognized her. She made a living collecting recyclables around the neighborhood.

"Haven't seen you for a while," she said. "Why didn't you bring Lionel out today?"

"Lionel…" I repeated the name under my breath, clenching my hands instinctively. "I was in a car accident and can't remember much. Could you tell me about him?"

Maya Faraday seemed to notice something and grew cautious. Just as she was about to speak, a figure rushed over like a gust of wind.

Edmund appeared suddenly, glaring at her. "Maya, what nonsense are you spouting again? I warned you before. Stay away from Norman. If you come here spreading lies again, I will call the police immediately."

Startled by his shout, Maya gave me a conflicted look before pedaling away as fast as she could.

"Norman, don't worry," Edmund said, patting my shoulder.

His voice was tense with both fear and disgust. "That woman has lost her mind. After her son died, her daughter-in-law fled with her grandson, Lionel. Ever since, she's been erratic, latching onto men and insisting they're her son. Don't trust her for a second."

Was that really the truth? Yet, the name "Lionel" stirred a strange sense of familiarity within me.

As I was about to fall asleep that night, Samantha embraced me from behind. Our skin touched, and that intense discomfort rose again without warning.

"I heard from Dad that Maya, the recycler, tried to talk to you today," she said.

I said nothing, and she went on as though my silence didn't matter. "When we used to come home from work together, we would often see Lionel's mother downstairs with him, and you always went to play with the boy.

"I even told you then that if you loved kids so much, we should have one of our own instead of always envying other people's."

A sudden dampness pressed against my back. Samantha's voice shook with restrained sobs. "Norman, are you still grieving over not being able to have children? I asked the doctor. He said you're experiencing post-traumatic stress.

"Your mind is fabricating false memories, which is why you keep believing you once had a child. Please don't bottle it all up. Hit me, yell at me—do whatever you need, just let it out. I can't lose you again."

Behind me, her muffled cries cut through the quiet.

Could my memories really be that unreliable? My mind spun in confusion as fragments of images flickered across my thoughts.

A woman of my age held a baby boy downstairs, though her face remained blurred in my vision.

I spoke to her briefly and played with the child for a moment.

Perhaps, just as Samantha had said, Lionel wasn't my child after all.

The next morning, Samantha woke me. With a hesitant look, she placed a cardboard box in my hands. These are the supplements we bought when we were trying to conceive, along with the toys we never got to give away.

"While you were in the hospital, I packed everything up. I didn't want you to come back and be reminded of them and feel sad. Now, I'm leaving them for you to deal with."

With that, she left the bedroom, leaving me alone with the sealed box. My hands trembled as I peeled back the tape.

Within the box were three parenting guides, a remote-controlled car, a toy pistol, and several boxes of prenatal vitamins. I knew each item well, particularly the books, frayed at the corners from repeated reading. One of the car's wheels was missing.

I pulled out the wheel I had found in the gap between the mattress and the bed frame and compared it to the others. It matched perfectly. The child that had lived in the depths of my mind had been entirely imagined.

A sudden knock on the door startled me. I wiped my face, composed myself, and opened it.

Outside, Samantha smiled gently. "Norman, my cousins are here to see you. Do you want to come out and meet them?"

She grabbed my wrist and led me into the living room. Besides Edmund, two young men were there.

The older cousin, Shawn Bolton, greeted me eagerly. "Norman, you're finally out of the hospital. When I heard about your accident, I was so worried. Thankfully, the driver who caused it has been caught."

For some reason, he felt familiar and comforting.

"Norman, why haven't you asked me to play basketball lately?"

Fragments of memory drifted to the surface, and I saw brief moments of us playing together.

Since I didn't respond, his expression soured, and he let out a small pout. "Sam, why is Norman ignoring me?"

Samantha stepped forward, looping her arm through his. "Norman lost some of his memory in the accident, and he's not fully recovered. Don't push him right now."

He looked disappointed, but he smiled at me anyway. "Norman, don't worry. You'll remember eventually."

"Alright, everyone, take a seat. Let's talk while we sit," Edmund said, ushering everyone to their seats.

I wandered toward the corner of the couch in a daze. The toy car wheel in my hand slipped as I brushed against the cushion, bouncing a few times before landing at the feet of Gerald Bolton, the younger cousin.

Gerald picked it up, examining it between his fingers for a few seconds. Then, he handed it back. "Norman, this is yours."

A knowing smile played across his face. I instinctively hesitated to take it, but Samantha stepped in, placing it gently back in my hand and guiding me to sit on the couch.

As soon as we settled, she asked softly, "Norman, did you remember something?"

I pressed my hand to my forehead. My body trembled slightly, and I forced a weak smile. "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."

"You shouldn't have brought those things out to upset him!" Edmund immediately scolded Samantha, looking at me with concern. "Norman is only just starting to feel better, and you're making him feel worse!"

"Dad, I'm fine," I quickly reassured him.

The sharp scrutiny in Samantha's eyes softened, replaced by worry and guilt. "I'm sorry, Norman. I was too impatient," she said.

The topic dropped for the moment, and I half-listened as they chatted about everyday things.

After a while, Samantha suddenly slapped her thigh and turned to me. "Speaking of food, I just realized I never picked up those oysters and clams you like for your recovery!"

She glanced at her phone, checking the time. "There are still a couple of hours until lunch. Shawn, come with me to the market."

"These won't last if we go too late," she added.

The two of them stood and headed for the entryway. Edmund followed, not forgetting to remind them, "Pick up some fresh spinach and chicken, too. I'll make something nourishing for Norman."

I felt a tug at my heart and stood to head to the kitchen to help Edmund prepare. "Dad, let me give you a hand."

Gerald chimed in, "I can't just stand here doing nothing. I'll help, too."

As I made my way to the kitchen, Edmund quickly intervened. "You've only just started feeling better. Don't overdo it. Let Gerald take care of it. He could use the exercise."

I had no choice but to step back. Meanwhile, Samantha and Shawn had already finished gathering what they needed and stepped out the door.

As the door swung half-shut, I caught a glimpse of Samantha, wearing a tense expression as she leaned close to whisper something to Shawn. Something felt off.

I called out toward the kitchen. "Dad, I'm dizzy. I'll lie down for a bit. Call me when it's almost time for dinner."

After Edmund acknowledged me, I quietly closed the bedroom door, making it seem as if I had gone inside. Then, I carefully avoided the two in the kitchen and slipped out.

As I turned the corner on the first floor, I overheard Shawn mutter, "At this time, it won't be fresh anymore…"

"Don't worry. I reserved it in advance," Samantha replied.

Their conversation sounded ordinary, but my gut told me something was wrong.

"Let's hurry. We don't want to lose the stock," Shawn said.

As they disappeared down the hall, I came out from behind the wall. Maybe I was overthinking it.

Then, a memory of Maya, the recycler, flashed through my mind. Last time, she had tried to say something but stopped, and Samantha and Edmund had been extremely wary of her. Perhaps she knew something.

Following that thought, I made my way to the scrap collection station where Maya lived.

I called out a few times at the door with no answer, then steeled myself and pushed open the old wooden door. The room was tiny, stacked with jars and bottles.

Maya wasn't there. I searched around, and as I turned to leave, I noticed a small streak of blood on the wall behind the door. It was half-dried, not very old.

A chill shot from my feet to the top of my head. Had something happened to Maya?

I flung the door open, ready to run, but a shadowy figure stood just outside.

Suddenly, memories of the car accident flashed through my mind. I saw myself lying on the ground, bloodied, as a woman stepped down from the car that hit me.

As she drew closer, her face gradually came into focus.