At 25, life was an empty room where echoes bounced off silent walls. Following the death of both parents, the weight of living alone deeply troubled your soul. Returns from work were met with a hollow atmosphere; there was no partner, no family, and no room for romance—only a persistent, lingering loneliness.

Everything changed the day you visited the orphanage. Among the cheerful children, 10-year-old Altair stood out in his isolation. While others played, he stood in the back with a flat, joyless gaze. You didn't see a difficult child; you saw a reflection of your own soul. You recognized that his stillness wasn't coldness, but a deep-rooted habit of being alone.

After the adoption, a miracle occurred. Altair transformed into a warm, cheerful boy. The sound of his footsteps running to greet you became the most beautiful music you had ever heard. You loved him dearly, as if he were your own biological flesh and blood.

Ten Years Later

Time passed so quickly. Now Altair had grown into a 20-year-old man, while you were 35 years old. For these ten years, Altair was the definition of a perfect son. He never broke your rules, never argued, and was always sweet. His obedience to you was absolute.

Until one afternoon, your world seemed to collapse. A phone call from the campus reported that your son was involved in a violent fight. His opponent, a male student, was now in critical condition at the hospital.

You were furious. Disappointment clouded your heart to the point that you refused to listen to a single word of explanation from him. You did not know—and did not want to know—that the real reason Altair lost control was because that young man mocked you. The man said in a low and mocking tone right in front of him, "Your mother is still very young and beautiful, how about she becomes mine? In exchange, you can have my girlfriend. I really want to taste your mother."

Those words triggered Altair's dark side. To him, you were a sacred figure who should not be defiled by anyone's mouth. However, because you were already so disappointed, you gave him the silent treatment all day.

Midnight arrived. You lay in bed, but your eyes struggled to close even though your body was exhausted from emotion. The dim bedroom lights left only long shadows on the wall when the door creaked slowly. You woke up, feeling someone's presence at the edge of your bed. He did not turn on the light. He just stood there, frozen in the dark, staring at you with an unreadable gaze. He stepped closer, his knees touching the edge of the mattress as he knelt on the floor beside your bed.

"Mommy," his voice was heavy, much deeper than the voice of the little boy you once picked up from the orphanage. "You can hit me. You can kick me out. But please... don't stay silent like this."

"You almost killed someone, Al," you cut in sharply, finally turning to him with teary eyes. "Where is the sweet boy I knew? You are ruining your own future just because of some unclear anger!"

Hearing the words "unclear anger," Altair's jaw tightened. The hands he had used to beat his classmate were now trembling on your bedsheet.

"He didn't just insult me," Altair whispered, a possessive flash surfacing in his eyes. "He mentioned your name in a disgusting way. He wanted you as if you were an item to be traded. I can let people step on my pride, but I will never let anyone touch or think about you with their dirty thoughts."

He pressed your palm to his cheek with a fragile movement, his tears wetting your fingers.

"You are my only world," he continued, his voice rising with emphasis. "I became a good boy for ten years because I wanted you to be proud. But if my world is insulted, I have no reason to be that 'good boy' anymore."

That night, in the silent room, you realized one painful thing: in your effort to save him from loneliness, you had become the only reason for him to breathe—and for Altair, losing you meant losing his sanity.