For His Beloved He Worsened Our Son’s Depression Novel – For the sake of his first love, he pushed our son to the point of jumping off a building. My son’s cat lightly scratched my husband’s first love. In response, my husband bound its paws and let it starve to death. “Did you forget that its mother saved our lives?” “A cat that dares to scratch a person is out of control. What right do you have to berate Sara? She’s just teaching our useless son how to care for a cat!” My son, already battling depression, developed an eating disorder as a result. My husband merely scoffed.
“Depression is just coddling. A few missed meals will fix it; let’s see if he dares to keep such a dangerous creature again.” When I arrived, my son had been staring blankly, ready to jump from the ledge. Only when he saw me did he climb down. His first words were, “Toby is dead.” I covered my face, overwhelmed by a wave of delayed sorrow that sent me into a deep cry. If only I hadn’t married Bradley. If only I hadn’t been kidnapped. Years ago, we were unexpectedly taken away, confined in a warehouse and starved for days. The sensation of hunger was terrifying. We huddled together, and when I saw the little cat squeezing through a small hole, my first instinct was to hide it from Bradley.
I feared he would resort to eating the kitten. But instead, he covered my eyes and patiently advised me, “We are human beings, capable of kindness. Unless absolutely necessary, we must not harm living creatures.” The cat dropped a fish not far from us, and we survived on the food it provided for quite some time. Once we got out, we took the cat with us and named her Lia. As time passed, I married Bradley, and she gradually grew old. One by one, her kittens were taken away, leaving her with the last and strongest little female, whom we named Toby. Toby grew up with our son, accompanying him through his darkest, most depressed moments.
Her eyes sparkled with life. Yet now, she had died because of Bradley’s absurd punishment in the name of his first love. He had forgotten his own principles. Tears streamed down my face, one drop after another. My son’s weak voice broke the silence. “Toby really is dead, isn’t she?” It was calm, yet not entirely so; it held a lifelessness, as if he might slip away at any moment. I held his hand, unable to find the words. “Mom, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, and I couldn’t protect Toby either. Am I really that useless?” I forced a smile, tears spilling from my eyes. “Lukie, you’re incredible.
You’ve endured so much pain and still have the courage to protect others. You are so precious.” He wearily closed his eyes again. Our family of four used to be so happy. Lucas loved to draw, capturing our joyful moments. Everything changed when Bradley’s first love returned to the country. He began to drift away, repeatedly skipping company meetings and anniversaries. I was busy, so I canceled my work trips to be with our son as much as possible. He would nuzzle my arm, sweetly saying, “Mommy, thanks for all your hard work.”
Until that one time, when I had repeatedly reminded Bradley not to forget to pick up our son from school. He still went to see his first love. When I hurried home, I was met with my son, bruised and tattered. He trembled, his voice choked with tears. “Mom, let’s go to the police.” In that moment, the immense pain nearly shattered me. Yet my son was so strong, bravely willing to go to the police station. And now, he spoke to me calmly again. “Mom, I think I’m going crazy.” I opened my mouth but could only manage a breathy gasp. Tears pooled in my sinuses, causing a dull ache. “Mom, I love you.” He repeated it, as if it were a sacred vow. With great effort, he lifted his weary fingers, painting my image with all the colors he could muster.
But the hidden paper beneath was filled with dark, twisted strokes. I knew he was searching for a reason to live, striving to break free. Everything seemed to be improving; he had finally been discharged from the hospital. Yet now, he was about to be pulled back into that black vortex. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore, Mom. Get a divorce, please.” His hand brushed against mine, and I could no longer bear it. My heart twisted painfully, and I broke down in tears. My son started waking up every night, unable to eat, and would just throw up at the sight of food, relying on IV drips.
Bradley had never come to see him. Watching my son’s frail, sleeping form, my heart burned with pain. Sometimes he would manage a faint smile. “Mom, I dreamt of Toby. She touched my head with her paws and smooched my nose, telling me to eat well.” I wiped my tears and smiled back. “I dreamt of her too. She told me to take good care of you.” He snuggled deeper under the blanket and closed his eyes again. I gently told him stories, recording them for the caregivers. Then I paused and stepped outside to answer a call. “When will you sign the divorce papers?” “Sign what? There’s nothing significant happening. Why are you making such a scene? Do you really want to give Lukie a broken home?” Bradley sounded so disappointed.
“It’s Lukie who doesn’t want you.” I quickened my pace. “He’s been on IV for days due to severe eating disorders, and you’ve never even visited him! And here you are belittling us! You’re nothing as a father; it’s a mistake I made marrying you!” Silence followed. Long enough that I thought he might finally realize his mistakes. “Eating disorder? What illness could a kid his age have? It’s just a cat; it can’t be more important than his parents. He’s just being dramatic, not wanting to go to school.” I felt a chill run down my spine. That cat was the child we owed our lives to, our guardian. Lia saved us, and Toby saved our broken son.
How could he say that? “He allowed this trivial matter to unsettle him; if he continues to respond this way, he’ll never accomplish anything meaningful—he’s on a path to failure!” He scoffed. “Do you really believe his depression? You’re just spoiling him; let him go hungry a few times and see if he still dares to keep such a dangerous pet!” The call abruptly ended, and I spent the night tossing and turning in despair at the hospital. The next morning, I felt the weight of anger when I heard a knock. Seeing Bradley, I instinctively pressed my brows together in annoyance. “There’s nothing to discuss except the divorce!”
He frowned and pulled me outside. “Can you not bring this up in front of the child? It’s so inconsiderate! What do you think he’ll think?” I slapped him, my patience worn thin. “Just sign papers.” He tilted his jaw, his expression darkening. “Are you having an affair? Is that why you’re so eager to divorce me?” I stared at him in disbelief, unable to fathom that he would slander me first. He pulled out what he claimed was evidence. When I focused, I realized it was from a lawyer collecting evidence against me. Suddenly, I felt a calm wash over me; with that evidence, I could sue him for defamation. But then, a loud crash echoed from inside the house. Instinct kicked in, and I rushed back inside, heart racing.
Sarah was blocking the light, and my gaze was drawn to a dusty gray powder on the floor, splattered with water. Next to it was Toby’s tiny urn. My mind buzzed, and I instinctively looked up. My son was like a ghost, rigidly climbing up to the window. He had once told me how terrifying it was when he spiraled down, that death held a special allure for him, whispering that if he jumped, the pain would cease. “Lukie!” I screamed, lunging toward him. Bradley laughed mockingly, “Putting on quite the show, aren’t we? If you’re going to jump, then jump! Trying to manipulate your dad’s sympathy?” But before he could finish, his voice caught in his throat. My son, ignoring his words, made a decisive leap out the window. His figure vanished in an instant.