Chapter 189

Annie's POV

"Are you sure you want to sit in the front row with us?" I asked,looking at Sue and Penny, the latter clutching Lucy's hand tightly. After lunch,when the four of us arrived at the auditorium, we discovered several empty seats in the front row.

"Of course!" Sue replied with a warm smile. "After all, our daughters are the stars of today's show, aren't they?"

I nodded in agreement, noticing how adorable Lucy and Penny looked with their carefully styled hair. After lunch. I had helped them each with different princess hairstyles, and both little girls had been absolutely delighted with the results. Following a brief play session in the playground area, we had arrived just in time for makeup and final rehearsals before heading to the auditorium.

"Lucy, Penny, you should go backstage to get ready," Howard gently reminded them, his voice warm and encouraging. "The performance will begin soon."

The two little girls nodded excitedly, exchanged smiles, and then ran hand-in-hand toward the backstage entrance. I watched their retreating figures-Lucy's golden curls shimmering under the lights,Penny following closely behind her. A wave of warm satisfaction washed over me. This was genuine progress-just six months ago when I first met Lucy, she barely spoke to anyone. Now she not only had a close friend but was confidently participating in school activities.

We found our seats in the front row, with Howard sitting to my right and Sue to my left. "This is my first time sitting so close to the front," Sue whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of nervousness,"What about you?"

"Mine too," I smiled in response. Sue took out her camera and began adjusting it, muttering about angles and lighting.

"Aren't you nervous at all?" she asked, seemingly surprised by my calm demeanor.

I pulled my camera from my bag, slightly puzzled by her question. "Nervous about what?"

"I plan to record Penny's performance and I've been worrying about how to capture it perfectly," Sue explained. "What about you? For Lucy's sake,you must want to get the best footage possible,right?"

I nodded, carefully adjusting my camera settings. "Absolutely, it's a special day."

The lights gradually dimmed, music began playing,and the audience fell silent. The curtains on stage slowly parted to reveal Lucy standing center stage, already changed into the white pearl-decorated dress she had checked repeatedly that morning. She stood confidently under the spotlight,holding a small microphone, her voice clear and bright as she began:"Respected teachers, dear parents, welcome to the Upper East Side Private Preschool's Spring Performance..."

Watching Lucy on stage, my thoughts involuntarily drifted back to our first meeting-when she had hidden behind Howard, sneaking glances at me, too shy to uatter a single word. Later, when I moved into Howard's home,she would only speak to me while remaining silent around others.

And now, here she was,standing center stage, confidently hosting the entire event, her voice strong, her expressions animated. I felt a gentle yet profound pride-not just happiness for Lucy's progress, but gratitude for being part of her growth journey.

"She's doing so well." This thought crystallized clearly in my mind.Though I wasn't her biological mother, in this moment. I genuinely felt that special emotional connection. Not based on blood ties, but built on daily companionship and care, on the precious trust we had gradually established.

I raised my camera and began recording. Before long, my arms started to ache. As I adjusted my position, Howard noticed my discomfort.

"Your arms will get tired holding the camera like that," he said softly. "Let me take over."

No further words were needed; our eye contact was sufficient. Howard gently took the camera from me, his fingertips lightly brushing against the back of my hand, imparting a subtle warmth.

This silent attentiveness filled me with gratitude-Howard had noticed my need and offered help without my having to ask. These small acts of consideration, ordinary yet genuine, outlined the picture of a healthy relationship.

This moment naturally led me to contrast it with my experiences with Philip. I remembered when Brian was small, and I had carried him for so long that my arms ached unbearably.

"Philip," I recalled mny exhausted voice, "could you hold Brian for a while?My arms are really sore."

He hadn't even looked up at me, responding coldly: "How hard can it be to carry a child? Other parents carry their kids around all day without

complaining. You're always making a big deal out of nothing."

Hearing those words. I had felt a wave of disappointment and hurt, but had no choice but to continue carrying Brian home. After arriving.I placed him on the sofa and massaged my numb arms, wondering if perhaps I really was being too sensitive.

Howard's whisper interrupted my memories: "What are you thinking about?"

I shook my head lightly, returning to the present. "Nothing, just... thank you."

On stage, Lucy announced the first performance, then gracefully exited. A group of children began their dance routine, and the audience soon erupted in enthusiastic applause.

After several performances, Lucy returned to the stage,this time announcing Penny's solo. I felt Sue straighten in her seat beside me,nervously raising her camera. Penny wwalked onto the stage, and as Lucy passed her, she gave Penny's hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement.The gesture was so natural, yet revealed the deep friendship between the two children.

After Penny's performance ended, Lucy returned to center stage to continue hosting. I found myself smiling unconsciously, proud of her presentation. She introduced each performance with increasing confidence.her voice becoming more clear and strong. When she mispronounced a name, I instinctively held my breath-but Lucy simply smiled graciously,offered a brief apology, and continued smoothly. Her composed handling of the small errorfilled me with admiration.

This scene reminded me of a recitation competition when Brian was five. He had forgotten a line. and I remember being so tense I could barely stand,knowing how disappointed Philip would be. Sure enough. on the way home, he had criticized mercilessly: "You couldn't remember those few simple lines? That's so disappointing. How have you been teaching him?" Brian had sat silently in the back seat, head bowed, while I remained speechless, filledwith a sense of failure.

Now,watching Lucy on stage,I felt a liberating lightness.

The days with Philip had been a nightmare. I hated his harshness toward Brian. Hated his perpetally dissatisfied expression.

Unlike Brian's experience, Lucy's growth environment was different. Here.there was no harsh judgment, only genuine support and encouragement.This atmosphere allowed children to develop naturally and let me simply appreciate her performance without worrying aboutfacing criticism afterward.

Howard recorded the video attentively, occasionally exchanging knowing glances with me. We didn't need many words between us; simple eye contact was enough to express our feelings.

When the final performance ended, Lucy returned to center stage for closing remarks. Her voice was slightly tired but filled with joy: "Thank you all for coming and for your support. Our spring performance is nowe concluded. Please give a round of applause for all our performers!"

The entire audience rose in enthusiastic applause. I stood up, clapping vigorously and shouting "Bravo!" I saw Lucy scanning the audience from the stage, and when her gaze fell upon Howard and me, she broke into a radiant smile.

Just then. I felt someone gently tap my shoulder. Turning around,I saw my mother. Ruth, who had somehow made it to the auditorium.

"Annie," her voice carried a trace of barely perceptible pride."could you send me a copy of the video you recorded later?"