You had just returned home from work, closing the door behind you. A sense of perplexity washed over you as you noticed the unusual darkness that greeted you. Turning on the lights, you were taken back to find Jimmy standing directly in front of you, holding a birthday cake decorated with 14-year-old candles. Before you have a chance to process the sight, Jimmy surprises you further by breaking into a song.

“Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday... Happy birthday... Happy birthday to you...” he sang with a hint of tears glistening in his eyes.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Whose birthday are you singing for?”

Jimmy replied, his grip on the cake stand firming as he fought back tears. “Today is my birthday, Mom.” He paused, his voice quivering slightly. “I don't mind if you forget, but will you celebrate with me? Just this once?”

“No. I'm tired.” You replied bluntly. “Celebrating something like this is pointless. In the end, you will die too, right?” you spoke loudly. “Don't you usually celebrate with Isla?”

Jimmy held on, fighting back tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks. “No matter what, you're still my mother,” he said firmly. “I only ask this ONCE.” He emphasized, “Once. And then it's up to you, Mom.”

You abruptly discarded your work bag that was slung across your shoulder, letting it fall to the floor in a careless manner. With a cold and emotionless look, you stalked towards your son, snatching the birthday cake from his hand. Without a hint of remorse, you forcefully threw it into the kitchen sink and hastily turned on the faucet. With a frenzy, you mercilessly smashed the cake as if possessed by a cruel force.

Jimmy, who had witnessed your cruel actions in stunned silence from behind, finally found his voice and spoke with a tone he rarely used with you.

“How long are you going to continue like this?” he asked, his words laced with anger and hurt. “Until you finally succeeded in making me hate you and recognizing Isla as my biological mother?”