Seven Days Until Forever Ends

I'm born with the ability to see how much time remains in every relationship between two people. Throughout my 13 years of marriage to my wife, Francine Spence, the rare word "Forever" glows above both our heads. But on the eve of our son Oscar Baxter's birthday, I stumble upon a conversation between Francine and her client, Dale Stratton. In it, I discover that she has been letting Dale use Oscar as a substitute for his deceased son, Zachary Stratton, to ease his grief. In an instant, the golden word "Forever" vanishes, and in its place is a glaring crimson number—7 Days. Chapter 1 I possessed the ability to see the expiration date of every relationship. My father, Saul Baxter, and my mother, Julia Barrymore, had been married for 23 years. On the day the number above their heads hit zero, Mom neither cried nor made a scene. Instead, she simply placed the divorce papers on the table and left with her suitcase in hand. That night, Dad knelt outside the door, begging her to stay until dawn. But Mom told me, "Relationships don't expire all at once. Behind every number that ticks down is a trust that's been betrayed." When I was 25 years old, I married Francine Spence. She was a renowned family law attorney, known for her rational mind and level-headedness. She had never believed in fairy-tale romance or happily-ever-afters. Yet, when we got married, the number above our heads wasn't ten or 50 years. It was a single gold word—Forever. Thirteen years into our marriage, we had a 12-year-old son, Oscar Baxter. To support Francine in her career, I had given up a position at the overseas branch of my firm and stayed home to take care of the household and raise Oscar. Over the years, Francine had worked her way up to a senior partner at her law firm. Meanwhile, I had gone from an ordinary architect to the head of my own firm. Everyone said we were the most stable couple they knew, and I believed it too. That was, until the night before Oscar's birthday, when I happened to notice Francine's phone light up with a message. It was from a man named Dale Stratton. "Oscar said he's willing to celebrate Zachary's birthday with me. He also said that whenever I miss Zachary, I can think of him as Zachary from now on. Francine, thank you for bringing such a wonderful child into my life." I stared at those words for a long time, frozen in place. Dale was Francine's college classmate and one of her newest clients. Three months ago, his 11-year-old son, Zachary Stratton, had died of an illness. In the aftermath, Dale's marriage had fallen apart completely. He was also embroiled in a dispute with his ex-wife, Elaine Donahue, over Zachary's inheritance and insurance payout. Francine sympathized with Dale, and so did I. That was why I never objected when she took Dale's late-night calls, nor did I question her when she accompanied him to sort through Zachary's belongings. Even when she took Oscar to meet Dale for the first time, all I did was remind her to maintain proper boundaries. Back then, she had wrapped her arms around me and said, "Dale just lost Zachary, and seeing Oscar helps him feel a little better. Don't worry, I know where to draw the line." Only now did I realize that by "drawing the line", she meant lending Oscar to another man. The bathroom door opened. Francine stepped out, drying her hair with a towel. When she saw the phone in my hand, she faltered for a moment. "Dale's only just starting to get his emotions under control. Don't read too much into it." "I didn't say anything," I said, putting the phone down. Francine walked over and hugged me from behind. "Tomorrow's Oscar's birthday. I've already cleared my schedule. How about the three of us go to the air show he's been talking about for the past month?" I lifted my head. Above us, the golden word "Forever" that had remained unchanged for 13 years suddenly flickered. The next second, the golden glow vanished, replaced by a blood-red countdown—7 days. Chapter 2 On the day of the air show, Oscar and I waited at the entrance for two hours. However, Francine never showed up. I called her seven times, but she didn't answer a single one. It wasn't until 3:00 pm that her assistant, Toby Holland, finally told me that Dale had suddenly gone missing. Worried something might have happened to him, Francine was searching everywhere for him. Oscar lowered his head and kicked at the pebbles by the roadside. "Mom's just trying to save Mr. Stratton. He's had such a hard time since losing Zachary." I turned to look at him. "But today is your birthday." He fell silent for a moment before murmuring, "We can always make up for a birthday later. That sounded exactly like what Francine would say. I said nothing more and took Oscar into the air show. After it ended, Oscar said he wanted some cake. So, we went to his favorite restaurant. As we passed a private dining room on the second floor, he suddenly stopped. Through the half-open door, I caught sight of a blue-and-white cake on the table. Dale sat in the middle wearing a birthday hat, with Francine seated to his left. And Oscar, who should have been beside me, appeared on the projection screen inside the room. It was obvious that the video had been prerecorded. Dressed in an old jersey that clearly wasn't his, Oscar looked into the camera and said, "Mr. Stratton, Mom said today is Zachary's birthday too. I'll celebrate with you, so please don't be sad anymore. Whenever you miss Zachary, you can come find me." Dale lowered his head, his tears falling onto the cake. Francine gently patted his back. In that moment, they looked like a married couple mourning the loss of their child. Oscar clearly hadn't expected me to catch them here, and he avoided my gaze. I pushed open the door and walked in. Francine immediately stood up. "Ian, what are you doing here?" Instead of answering her, I turned to ask Oscar, "When did you record that video?" "Yesterday." "Why didn't you tell me?" Oscar's lips parted, but Francine answered for him, "I told him to keep it from you. Dale had only just started to get his emotions under control, and I didn't want you picking another fight with me over this." I let out a small laugh. "So, you taught Oscar to lie to me too?" Francine frowned. "How can you call that lying? We were just trying to comfort a father who lost his son." Dale wiped away his tears and stood up. "Mr. Baxter, please don't blame Francine or Oscar. This is all my fault. Today is Zachary's first birthday since he passed away. I just couldn't bear it anymore, so I asked them to keep me company." As he apologized, his eyes drifted toward Oscar. It was as though he were looking at a son he'd lost and miraculously found again. Francine stepped in front of him, shielding him from me. "Ian, Dale just lost Zachary. You're a father too, so you should understand what he's going through." I looked down at Oscar. "Do you think I should understand too?" Clutching the hem of his shirt, Oscar gave a small nod. "Dad, you've already celebrated 12 birthdays with me, whereas Mr. Stratton can never do that for Zachary ever again." The countdown above our heads suddenly shifted—6 Days and 11 Hours. I took the birthday present I'd prepared from my bag and placed it on the table. "Since you've already chosen to celebrate with Dale, I won't intrude." A flicker of panic crossed Oscar's face. "Dad, where are you going?" "I'm going home." I glanced at Francine. "And to prepare the divorce papers." Chapter 3 Francine didn't return until that evening. Oscar followed behind her, clutching the space shuttle model I'd given him. I'd spent two months making it by hand, but his name had already been removed from the base. Francine flipped through the divorce papers before tossing them back onto the table. "Ian Baxter, you're already 38—can you stop acting so childish? Dale just lost Zachary, and you're threatening to divorce me over one meal?" I looked at the space shuttle model. "What happened to the name on the base?" Oscar instinctively hid it behind his back. "Zachary loved aerospace too, and Dale got very emotional when he saw the space shuttle model," Francine explained. "So, Oscar agreed to let him keep it for a few days." "But I gave Oscar that as his birthday gift," I argued. "Oscar has the right to decide what to do with his own things," Francine said calmly. "Besides, he's only lending it to Dale. It's not like he's giving it away." "Is that what you wanted?" I asked Oscar. He lowered his head. "Mom said Mr. Stratton needs it more right now." "I see," I said with a nod. Francine rubbed her forehead. "What exactly are you making such a fuss about? Nothing is going on between me and Dale. Do I really need your permission to help a friend who's lost his child?" "You can help Dale." I pushed the divorce papers toward her again. "But you can't sacrifice yourself, Oscar, and my place in this family just to save him." Francine's expression turned cold. "What do you mean, your place? It's not like Oscar is calling Dale 'Dad.'" The moment those words left her mouth, I saw Oscar's expression change. "Have you called him that?" I asked. "No." Oscar immediately denied it, yet he couldn't bring himself to look me in the eye. I took out my phone and opened Dale's Instagram. Two hours ago, he posted a group photo. Francine stood on the left, Oscar on the right, and Dale sat between them. In his hands was the space shuttle model I'd given Oscar. The caption simply read, "Thank you for giving me a family again." Beneath it, Oscar had commented, "Dad, don't be sad." The living room fell silent for a long time. Eventually, Francine said, "It was just a way of addressing Dale. He was inconsolable at the time, and Oscar only called him that to comfort him." I looked at Oscar. "So, you've lied to me again." Hurt flickered in Oscar's eyes. "Mom said you wouldn't understand." "She's right." I suddenly laughed. "I really don't." I couldn't understand how the son I'd raised could so casually call another man "Dad" just to comfort him, much less why Francine thought any of this was perfectly justified. The countdown had dwindled to just five days. I gathered the divorce papers and sent a message to my lawyer, Kurt Miller. "There's no point negotiating the divorce settlement anymore. Just prepare the papers to file for divorce." Chapter 4 The next day was Oscar's robotics championship. I had helped him build the team from the ground up, and we'd spent six months working on everything from the programming to the mechanical design. Before the competition began, Oscar kept glancing toward the entrance. "Mom promised she'd come." I didn't tell him that Francine had texted me an hour earlier. Dale had decided to scatter Zachary's ashes at sea, and she was going with him. Halfway through the competition, Oscar's smartwatch lit up. Francine had sent him a video. The sea breeze was strong. Dale clutched the urn containing Zachary's ashes, breaking down in tears so badly that he could barely keep his balance. Francine supported him and said to the camera, "Oscar, say goodbye to Zachary." Oscar slipped backstage to record a voice message. "Zachary, don't worry. From now on, I'll be there for Dad in your place." I stood behind him and listened to the entire recording. When he turned around, all the color drained from his face. "Dad, I was just—" "It's your turn to compete." I neither questioned him nor lost my temper. However, he made one mistake after another throughout the competition. In the end, his team only managed to place fourth. After we left the venue, Oscar asked me with red-rimmed eyes, "Are you angry with me?" "No." "Then why aren't you saying anything?" I stopped walking. "Because I've suddenly realized that you don't need me anymore." "That's not true," he hurriedly explained. "I just feel sorry for Mr. Stratton." I looked at Oscar. "You all feel sorry for him, so my feelings don't matter." Oscar froze. In the past, no matter what mistake he made, I would patiently talk things through with him. But this time, I didn't comfort him. That evening, Francine brought Dale home. "Dale hasn't been emotionally stable since scattering Zachary's ashes," she said. "His therapist recommended that he have someone around to keep him company." I stood in the entryway. "So, you're bringing him to live with us?" "Just for two days." Francine carried Dale's luggage into the guest room. "We have a spare room. Stop assuming the worst of people." Dale stood at the doorway, his eyes red-rimmed. "Mr. Baxter, if you don't want me here, I can leave." Even as he said it, he made no move to put down his luggage. Oscar rushed over and grabbed his hand. "Dad, please don't go." The words hung in the air, and everyone fell silent. Realizing he'd addressed Dale incorrectly, Oscar instinctively looked toward Francine. But she merely patted his head. "It's okay. Mr. Stratton is having a hard day. Calling him that will help him feel better." The countdown above our heads began to plummet—3 Days and 17 Hours. I stepped aside to let them in. "Go ahead and be my guest." Francine seemed to think I'd finally given in, and her expression softened. She had no idea that just half an hour earlier, I'd accepted a position leading my firm's overseas projects. I was leaving in three days, and I wouldn't be back for five years. Chapter 5 On Dale's first night in our home, Oscar gave up his own bedroom for him. His reason was that the guest room didn't have the starry-sky projector Zachary had loved when he was alive. When I entered Oscar's room, Dale was rearranging the photographs on the nightstand. He had tucked away the picture of Oscar and me together beneath a snowy mountain and replaced it with one of himself and Zachary. "Who gave you permission to touch those?" I demanded. Dale froze. "Oscar said it was okay." Oscar walked in and said, "Dad, Mr. Stratton can't sleep. Looking at Zachary's picture helps him feel at ease." "What about our photo?" I asked. "Let's put it away for a few days," Oscar replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. I gazed at him for a long time. "Fine." I took the photo out of the drawer and brought it back to my study. … The next day, the school held a career day where parents were invited to share their professions. I had originally been invited to speak as an architect. But when I arrived at the school, I discovered that Dale had taken my place on stage. He was a documentary filmmaker. The audience applauded enthusiastically, and Oscar proudly said to his classmates, "Mr. Stratton is my mom's friend, and he's made lots of amazing movies." After the event, Oscar's homeroom teacher, Donna Brewer, looked surprised to see me. "Mr. Baxter, Oscar told me you had something urgent come up and voluntarily gave your slot to Mr. Stratton." I turned to Oscar. "When did I ever say I had something urgent to attend to?" The smile froze on his face. "Mom said you've been pushing for a divorce lately, so she thought you showing up might make Mr. Stratton uncomfortable." Francine again. But then again, Oscar had made the decision himself. When we got home, I packed the last of my documents into my suitcase. Oscar stood in the doorway and asked, "Dad, are you really leaving?" "Yeah." "Is it because of Mr. Stratton?" "No." I closed the suitcase. "It's because you and your mom both told me time and again that this family doesn't need me anymore." Tears welled up in Oscar's eyes. "I never said I didn't want you." "But you want me to give up my place in your life to make room for Dale." "He just lost Zachary." "So what?" For the first time, I cut him off. "Does losing a child mean I have to lose mine too?" Oscar was speechless. Suddenly, Francine asked coldly from the doorway, "Are you forcing Oscar to make a choice?" "Do I need to?" I looked at her. "He's already made it." The countdown had dwindled to just 19 hours. The next morning, Francine went to her law firm. She sent me a message asking me to meet her that afternoon to discuss the divorce, adding that she'd be bringing Oscar along. "Why don't you cool off first? If you insist on divorcing me, I'll fight for custody of Oscar. He's already 12 years old, so the court will respect his wishes." She knew exactly how to hit me where it hurt the most. For the past 12 years, I'd been there for nearly every one of Oscar's parent-teacher meetings, every time he fell ill, and every competition he entered. Francine knew how much Oscar meant to me, so she thought she could always make me back down by threatening to take him away. At 2:00 pm, Francine and Dale were seated in the mediation room. Oscar was there too. Francine turned to him and asked, "If your dad and I separate, who would you want to live with?" Oscar remained silent for a long time before answering in a small voice, "You, Mom. Mr. Stratton will be there for me too." Francine seemed quite pleased with his answer. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already 2:30 pm, yet I still hadn't shown up. At 3:00 pm, she called me for the first time. But no one answered. By 3:20 pm, unease had begun to creep in. At 4:00 pm, my flight took off right on schedule. As the countdown hit zero, the city was shrinking rapidly beneath me. No new numbers appeared, nor was there any sign of the so-called "Forever". I switched off my phone and slipped my wedding ring into the paper bag the flight attendant had handed me. It wasn't as hard as I'd thought it'd be to let go of a 13-year marriage and 12 years of father-son bonds. Meanwhile, Kurt pushed open the door to the mediation room and placed the divorce petition in front of Francine. "Mr. Baxter has already left the country. He has agreed to let Oscar remain in your sole custody. For matters concerning the division of assets and visitation arrangements, please contact me going forward."