Chris scooped up my son from the stool and walked toward me, holding his hand.

"Hey, Dr. Karen's home."

"Yeah, I’m home," I said, fighting back tears. I knelt down and hugged my son. "What did Chris make you?"

He pouted. "Dad only made me four chocolate chip ones, and all the rest are snickerdoodle ones for Mom."

Chris sighed.

"You're telling on me after I just cheered you up. You know Dr. Karen works hard all the time. I just made a bunch she likes."

My heart soared, and I tugged on the hem of Chris' shirt. "Thanks, Chris."

"Ding!" The oven timer went off, and Chris went into the kitchen.

"You must be tired. I made tea for you."

My family was together, happy and well.

There was no longer an empty void below, and the sounds of children’s laughter could be heard everywhere.

In my hands, I had a cup of lukewarm tea. On the soft cushion beside me, my son was dozing off. And behind me, my husband held me tight, loving me with all his heart.

Suddenly, I started crying, unable to help myself. Chris handed me a tissue. "Who made my Karen cry?"

I looked up at Chris through my tear-filled eyes, his shaggy hair falling across his forehead, a warm light in his eyes.

I said the most cliché thing I could think of. "Chris, I missed you so much."

His ears visibly turned pink.

He held me tighter, whispering in my ear, "Funny, me too."

Back in 2008, I cherished every day. Those fifteen years felt like a bad dream, fading with each passing moment.

More than half a year had passed since our return, and today was my son's birthday. I took him to the science fair he'd been looking forward to.

In the hall for the winner of the student group, a homemade rocket captivated my son. I told him to wait for me where he was, while I went to get him ice cream.

While I was waiting for the ice cream, the noise of the hall started to grow.

"Unbelievable, there are two kids fighting!"

"It’s just someone being unilaterally abused. You can tell the two of them are clearly very different."

Amid the noise, I heard my son’s voice: "What are you doing stealing my things?"

I rushed back, pushing my way through the crowd, and I saw my son lying on the ground. He was underneath an older kid, who was pulling on his backpack.

Obviously, my son couldn’t win, but he was holding on tight to a shoulder strap of the bag.

"Alex!" I rushed over, anxiously picking up my son. He let go of the bag. The other kid was caught off guard and ended up falling down.

My son’s face was red, and I knew he must’ve been holding on tight.

When he saw me, he was finally unable to hold back his tears.

"Mom, he’s trying to steal my backpack! It’s the one you got me!"

I examined my son to make sure that he wasn’t injured, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief, gently patting his back.

"It’s okay, I can get you another one."

I saw the kid’s headphones fall off; they were a very expensive brand.

And looking at the kid’s designer outfit and his fancy accessories, he didn’t seem like he was trying to steal anything.

I pulled my son behind me, and I asked him, "Where are your parents? Why are you stealing my son’s bag?"

The kid didn’t say anything with his head bowed, and I tried to suppress my anger, getting the bag back.

My son wasn’t hurt, the other kid’s parents weren’t around, and I didn’t want to make things difficult for a kid who seemed to be in his teens.

As I took my son by the hand to leave, the kid suddenly said, sounding very wronged:

"Mom, I got hurt too. Aren’t you going to look at my injuries?"