Building a relationship would take time

The moment Betty led the kid out of the teacher's lounge, our eyes met, and it was like a bolt of lightning struck through my mind. I couldn't pinpoint why, but it felt like a short circuit in my brain, as if we had known each other in a past life, or were destined to meet in this one.

All I knew was that something special was bound to happen between us, though I couldn't quite grasp where that odd notion came from, or what it specifically entailed.

He looked to be about 13 or 14 years old. Despite his young age, there was a maturity about him that didn't quite fit.

Betty had mentioned it, and it was true—Michael Justin, though one-third Asian by descent, blended in seamlessly with Americans. If I hadn't been told about his mixed heritage, I'd never have guessed.

Betty and I took him to the principal's office, unsure of how to break the news to him. I let Betty stay with him while I spoke privately with the school officials. I presented the adoption papers issued by the U.S. embassy and explained that the child was now an orphan.

After discussing with the school authorities, we involved the civil affairs department and other relevant agencies. The process was complex, especially since the child held dual citizenship, both American and Singaporean.

Despite the bureaucratic maze, I had all the proper documents, so it was just a matter of time.

We decided it was best not to keep secrets from the child any longer. We called Michael Justin Davis over and broke the news of his father's death in the conflict. We braced for his tears and outburst.

Michael Justin Davis froze for a few minutes, then bowed his head and clenched his fists, his body shaking. He seemed to be fighting back tears, and finally, he lifted his head, refusing to let them fall.

"I kind of figured..." Michael Justin Davis's English was impeccable, a testament to his education in the States. His first words took us by surprise.

"How did you guess?" Betty, serving as the school's part-time psychological counselor, was prepared to provide mental support and guidance for Michael Justin Davis. His response prompted her to ask.

"My mom used to call me every couple of days, but it's been a week without a word. That's not normal. Even though my parents sent me here to keep me away from the war, how could I not know what was happening back home?"

He continued, "The news has been covering it for a while. I just knew this day would come. Your news just confirms what I already suspected." Michael Justin Davis wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes and spoke quietly. Despite his deep sadness, he appeared remarkably calm.

Observing Michael Justin Davis, I couldn't help but admire the kid. His ability to assess situations and his sensitivity were on par with adults. His composure and calm demeanor in the face of adversity far exceeded his years.

This calm, maturity, and sharp mind were all traits of someone destined to achieve great things. I felt an eager anticipation about his education and development.

As a teacher and part-time psychological counselor, Betty was far more equipped to handle the delicate matters of Michael Justin Davis's adoption and future guidance. Given their existing teacher-student bond and Betty's approachable manner, I was confident that she would manage the situation with the sensitivity it required.

While Betty and Michael were still at school, I took the opportunity to meet with Laura's parents. Initially, they greeted me with disdain and contempt.

However, their attitude shifted dramatically when I presented them with the news of Laura's leftover savings amounting to a million dollars.

Their smiles bloomed instantly, and any semblance of grief for their daughter seemed to vanish. It was a stark reminder of the cold realities of the world, and I couldn't help but feel a profound sadness for Laura.

I didn't keep a dime of the money Betty gave me; instead, I handed it all to her parents. In exchange, we signed an agreement that Michael Justin Davis was now under my guardianship, and they would not seek to reclaim him under any circumstances.

It seemed they had already considered the boy a burden, as they signed the document without hesitation.

Disheartened by Laura's family's reaction, I drove back to the school. By then, classes had ended. I arrived at the school gates to find Betty waiting with Michael Justin Davis, holding his hand, ready to head home together.

As we approached the car, Betty, with Michael in tow, got in. Normally, Betty would sit in the passenger seat next to me, wanting to be close. But today was different. Knowing what Michael had just learned about his parents, he was unusually quiet. After getting into the car, he stared out the window, lost in thought.

To provide comfort, Betty sat in the back with him, leaving the passenger seat beside me empty. She held his hand gently, perhaps trying to transfer some warmth and reassurance through her touch. When we had a moment, I planned to talk more with Betty to get a better understanding of Michael's situation.

"Michael, how old are you now?" I asked, attempting to engage him and bridge the gap between us, even though I had seen his age in the school records.

Michael seemed distracted and did not respond, continuing to gaze out the window.

"Michael, when you're ready to talk..." Betty gently squeezed Michael's hand, her voice always soothing, no matter the situation. When she mentioned me, she hesitated, unsure whether to call me 'Dad' or 'Uncle.' It was unclear whether Michael had fully accepted us yet, so she chose to leave out the title for now.

"How old are you?" I repeated, catching his attention this time.

"Thirteen," he replied simply, then returned his gaze to the window. It was clear he was still keeping his distance, unsure about his new foster father. Building a relationship would take time.

Once we got home, Michael quietly surveyed the room and then sat down on the sofa, deep in thought. Although he had anticipated his parents' fate, he still needed time to gradually come to terms with it.