Chapter 42 - The History Of The Wallet (1/2)

Years back.....

A young woman sat on a bed crying and upon hearing a knock on her door, asked in a shaky voice, ”Who is there?”

”It's me, mama,”

At the sound of that voice, the woman's eyes grew wide and she instantly stood up from her bed with great speed.

Sniffing back the tears and snot, she said, ”Urm...Marcel baby, give me a few minutes. I'm kind of indecent at the moment,” she lied through her teeth because she was well clothed.

”Okay, mama,” the young boy said patiently.

As soon as the woman heard, she let out a breath of relief and without wasting time, went into the bathroom where she began to splash her face with water.

She meant to wipe away the tears but her red and puffy eyes were still a sign of her crying. Her son can't see her like this.

At once, she grabbed her makeup kit and began to powder her face, making sure to even hide the bruise she received from him days ago.

When she was done, the woman glanced at herself through the mirror. Although the makeup was a bit exaggerated - she had applied a lot in the process of covering up her flaws - she looked beautiful. Having spent a lot of time here, she hurriedly went to her room and opened the room for her son.

Young Marcel was startled as soon as he saw his mother's face baked with makeup and a shadow fell upon his expression. Father made her sad again. However, in order not to worry his mother, he immediately masked his feelings by putting on a bright smile.

”Marcel, my son,” The woman whose name was Penelope and the mother of Marcel quickly picked her son into her arms.

”Mama, put me down! This is so embarrassing!” young Marcel went red in the face as his mother carried him. Thankfully, this wasn't in front of his friends else he would have died from shame.

”I don't care, I just like carrying my handsome son,” the woman teased him by dropping him on the bed where she began to attack him with tickles.

Loud laughter resonated from Marcel's mouth as he suffered from his mother's tickle attacks. Marcel sincerely looked carefree and happy compared to the grim man he became in later years.

A look at mother and son and one didn't need to guess where Marcel had gotten his great looks. He was a carbon copy of his mother except for the gray eyes he had taken from his father. Both mother and son were photogenic.

Penelope finally gave up and they both laid down on the bed, laughing and staring at the ceiling. However, even as Penelope laughed, a tear still fell from her eyes that Marcel saw.

He quickly wipes it away with his palm, saying softly, ”Please, don't cry, mama,”

Penelope released a burst of choked laughter, ”Of course not, this is not tears. It's just water and the eyes releases it to be healthy and alive,”

But of course, Marcel didn't believe her. He asked, instead, ”Father hit you again, didn't he?”

Penelope's eyes went wide, ”Don't talk nonsense, Marcel. Your father loves me, he wouldn't do such a thing,”