My son, Leo, has been in kindergarten for three years, and I’ve never attended a single parent-child event. It’s not that I didn’t want to. Every time I brought it up, he would cry, throw a tantrum, and cling to my husband’s leg: "I don't want Mommy to go!" This time, he won an award for an essay, and my husband rejected my request to go with him, just as usual. "Leo wrote about 'My Mother.' If the real person is there, he'll be shy. It's better if I just go." "After the awards ceremony is over, the three of us can go out and celebrate." I stayed silent and ironed Leo’s little suit for him. But on the day of the ceremony, I quietly slipped into the back row of the auditorium. The spotlight hit my son as he recited his essay in a crisp voice. "My mother loves wearing pink dresses. When she hugs me, she always smells so good." I froze. There wasn't a single pink dress in my closet, and I never wore perfume. Who exactly was this mother Leo was writing about? 1 The air conditioning in the auditorium was blasting, but my back was already drenched in sweat. On stage, Leo continued: "It smells like jasmine!" "Mommy likes white roses, so Daddy buys them for her all the time. Mommy always picks the best one for me and says she likes me even more than white roses." Gripping the armrests tightly, my mind was a chaotic mess. I didn't own any pink dresses, I didn't use perfume, and I certainly wouldn't smell like jasmine. I'm highly allergic to white roses; just smelling them makes me sneeze and my eyes water. Both Ethan and Leo knew this, which is why white roses were completely banned from our house. The mother Leo was talking about wasn't me. Just as this terrifying thought surfaced, the large screen displayed Leo's work. Next to his childish handwriting was an illustration he had drawn for the essay. The moment I saw the drawing, it felt like I couldn't breathe. It was a scene of a family of three eating ice cream in front of a Ferris wheel. The man was in a white button-down shirt, the woman in a pink dress, and a very happy Leo was right in the middle. "Mommy took me to Disney Castle and bought me a Mickey Mouse ice cream." "Mommy says as long as I like it, she'll buy it for me." Leo had always wanted to go to Disneyland, and I had mentioned it to Ethan many times. But every time, he would check his schedule and sigh at me: "The company is in a critical growth phase right now; I really can't get away. Let's wait a bit. I'll take a long vacation soon, and we'll go to Disney for a few days." I agreed, but the moment he turned around, he would tell Leo: "Mommy won't let you go to Disneyland." Leo would cry endlessly, venting all his resentment on me. I tried to explain, but Ethan stopped me: "He's just a kid; he doesn't understand the pressures adults face. Just play along for now. When he's older, I'll explain it to him myself." I had no choice but to nod. Over time, Leo stopped bringing up Disney. I thought he had lost interest, but it turned out he had already been there. And when Ethan said he was too busy to go, it meant he was too busy to go with me. Flipping to the next page, Leo's voice echoed again. "Daddy and Mommy took me to catch crabs. Mommy bought me so many shell toys..." "My mother is the prettiest, best mother in the whole world." "I love my mother." "Mommy, when I grow up, I'll protect you together with Daddy!" The essay ended. Thunderous applause erupted from the audience, but my hands and feet were ice cold. Leo had a sweet tooth. I strictly limited the amount of candy he ate, especially ice cream, but he still got a few cavities. When I took him to the dentist, he cried his lungs out, calling me a bad mother. He was naturally allergic to seawater; just a splash would cause him to break out in hives all over his body. Because of that, I never took him to the beach and even gave up my favorite hobby of beach camping. But he still frequently had allergic reactions. I thought I was failing as a mother, that I must have accidentally fed him something else he was allergic to. I rushed him to the hospital for allergy testing, and he was miserable, calling me a bad mother again. When I poured out my grievances to Ethan, he just frowned and advised me: "You're an adult, and Leo is just a child. Why do you have to argue with him? When he grows up, he'll naturally understand your good intentions." Leo is six this year. I've been the "bad mother" for six years, hearing "Mommy won't let you" for six years. Even so, I believed what Ethan said—that he would understand when he grew up. But I was wrong. Ethan said "Mommy won't let you," but the other mother out there spoiled him and yielded to him, giving him whatever he wanted. I was the bad mother because he had a "good mother" on the outside. The applause slowly died down. Leo waved happily, and I followed his gaze to the front row. Ethan sat right in the center, wearing the suit I had prepared for him. And the woman clapping next to him was wearing a pink dress. They went up on stage together, each taking one of Leo's hands. In the dim light, tears seemed to glisten in the woman's eyes, and Ethan gently wiped them away. Everyone stood up, marveling at this happy family of three. Only I remained seated, my nails digging into my fingertips until they bled. I came here carrying happiness. But now I suddenly realized that happiness had never belonged to me. 2 I didn't stay until the end; I fled home in a panic. The once cozy house now felt like a terrifying abyss. I stood at the door, leaning against the entryway cabinet, feeling for the first time how unfamiliar this place was. But I couldn't run. If I ran, I would completely lose. While they were still at the auditorium, I searched everywhere. Finally, under the storage bin where Ethan kept his company documents, I found a stiff paper bag. Inside was a brand new pink dress. The tags were still on it—twelve thousand, eight hundred dollars. Just last month, when my dad got sick, I asked him for ten thousand to cover the medical bills. But he showed me his bank account balance: only two thousand. "All the money has been invested into the company's new project. I really don't have any spare cash right now. If your dad needs it urgently, I'll go ask my friends to borrow some." I didn't want him to owe anyone favors, so I maxed out my own credit cards and scrambled to find odd jobs to make up the difference. And now, this $12,800 dress felt like a slap across the face. "My mother loves wearing pink dresses." Leo's voice flashed through my mind. Fighting back nausea, I opened the card tucked under the dress— [To My Beloved Chloe: Pink is the color of home. The mother in Leo's essay should be you. Thank you for everything you've sacrificed for our family. Draping you in this rosy hue, I hope to have you by my side for this lifetime. Ethan.] I gripped the card tightly, remembering that woman's face. Chloe Miller. Ethan's high school classmate, who studied fashion design in college and opened her own studio right after graduation. Before Leo was born, I used to occasionally check the financial status of Ethan's company. At that time, half of the investment funds were given to Chloe's studio. I thought it was strange, but Ethan said she had talent and it was a guaranteed return on investment. Later, when he convinced me to become a stay-at-home mom, I never asked about the company's finances again. Looking back now, perhaps they were already together even then. Maybe in his heart, Chloe was his true love, the one he wanted to spend his life with. He gave everything for "their family." What about me? What was I! I put the dress back and opened Ethan's laptop to check his bank statements. After years of dealing with daily chores and endless housework, he was so sure I wouldn't have time to check his computer that he never set a password. Over the past three months, there were several large transactions. A three-person suite at a resort in Hawaii, thirty-eight thousand. A jewelry counter, eighty thousand. Disney Resort, ten thousand. Transaction after transaction, all sums I had never seen before. Even though Ethan was the boss of his company, these past few years were always "the company's critical growth phase." His money always had to be invested in projects, leaving me with only a few thousand dollars for living expenses. I thought I just needed to endure it, that once the projects yielded returns, our lives would get better. But in reality, he had been living a life of luxury all along. It was just that the person enjoying the good life with him wasn't me. It was past nine o'clock when Ethan finally brought Leo home. His tone carried a hint of exasperation: "After the ceremony, the teacher organized a dinner for everyone. We just finished." "Honey, did you eat?" I looked at him and didn't respond. Other parents in the auditorium had mentioned there was no dinner planned; they were all celebrating with their kids individually. So where did you go, and who did you eat with? I gripped the sofa cushion. Next to me, Leo was yawning. "I'm so tired, I want to sleep..." "Leo, do you want some ice cream?" His eyes instantly lit up. "Can I? Yes, I want some!" "Leo!" Ethan suddenly scolded him. "Only one a day!" As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake and quickly changed his tune: "The teacher rewarded him with one tonight. Like you said, he can't have too much." Leo nodded along. "Right, right." As father and son went to wash up, my temples throbbed. My son was only six years old, yet he was already colluding with his father to deceive me for the sake of another woman. Then what about my accounting career that I abandoned for housework and child-rearing? What about the friends I gradually drifted away from? What about the hobbies that were ground down to nothing? Were my sacrifices over the years truly worthless? 3 The next day, under the guise of being Leo's aunt, I added his teacher on WeChat. I hadn't attended any parent-child events in the past three years, but on the teacher's social media feed, Ethan and that woman were always by Leo's side. She was always wearing a pink dress, holding Ethan's arm. They were always smiling, cheering Leo on. In the corner of one video, Ethan even leaned in and kissed her lips. Like some sort of self-torture, I watched those two seconds over and over again until the agonizing pain in my heart turned into numbness, and finally, into calm. That evening, I heated up some milk and brought it into the study: "I haven't read Leo's essay yet. Did you take a picture of it?" Ethan's fingers stiffened before he finally said: "The essays were left at the kindergarten. It's just kid stuff anyway, nothing worth reading." The room fell silent. I glanced toward the document storage bin. The paper bag underneath was gone. He had given it to her. Pinching my thigh hard, I said: "Tomorrow is Leo's birthday, and it's the weekend. Why don't we take him to Disneyland?" Ethan finally looked up, his face full of apology: "Honey, I forgot to tell you. I have to go on a business trip tomorrow. And Leo already made plans to go to a friend's house. I'll drop him off early in the morning and head straight to the airport." "You've worked so hard for so many years. Just stay home and get some good rest tomorrow." It felt like I had pinched the skin off my thigh. The calmness I had achieved shattered, replaced by a dense, suffocating pain spreading through my entire body. Leaving the study, I went to find Leo. "Leo, tomorrow is your birthday. What do you want for a present?" His little head poked out from under the covers: "Didn't Daddy say the presents are all at the new house?" My heart gave a violent lurch. "What new house?" He quickly ducked back under. "Nothing, nothing! I didn't say anything!" My legs grew increasingly stiff as I turned and bolted out of his room. I asked the teacher to add me to the parents' group chat. The first thing I saw was the contact named "Leo's Mom." Chloe loved sharing; she posted on her social media almost every other day. [Hubby gave me another dress. My closet can't even fit them all anymore.] [Congratulations to Leo for winning first prize in the essay contest! We're having a big feast tonight to celebrate!] Going back another week: [The renovations are finally done! We're having a housewarming party next week, which also doubles as Leo's birthday party. Everyone is welcome to come and join the fun!] In the photo, Ethan had his arm around her, standing in an unfamiliar living room, looking blissfully happy. I read it over and over, completely in disbelief. Ethan bought her a house. My husband called her his beloved, my son said she was the best mother, and my family had a new home with another woman. A surge of anger rushed to my head. I went to the study, intending to demand an explanation. Instead, I heard Ethan on the phone, his voice lowered: "Don't overthink it. Of course, you're the one I love, and Leo loves you too. I just need an opportunity to lay my cards on the table with her..." "Chloe, don't cry. You have your fashion business that you love. I don't want you to be bogged down by domestic chores..." I pressed myself against the wall, hearing every single word crystal clear. And recording every single word. I knew that our eight years of marriage, the bond between husband and wife, and the bond between mother and son, were all coming to an end. 4 At six in the morning, Ethan took Leo out the door. I changed my clothes and followed them. It was in the best school district in the city, right next to a shopping mall, just a ten-minute walk to the downtown elementary school. To make it easier for Leo to go to school, I had come to look at apartments here four times, but every time Ethan talked me out of it. He'd say we didn't have enough savings, that housing prices were too high right now, or that it was too far from his kindergarten. Over the years, Ethan had talked me out of many things, and I had always listened, always believed him. The only time I didn't listen to him was when I secretly attended Leo's essay awards ceremony. I couldn't even imagine how many more years I would have been deceived if I hadn't gone. People were coming and going in the apartment complex. I took a deep breath and smiled as I greeted them: "We're having a housewarming party for our new home. Neighbors, please come join us for a meal." I said it the whole way there. Finally, I arrived at the new apartment. The door was slightly ajar, and it was very lively inside. There were Leo's classmates and their parents, company employees, and some people I didn't know. Ethan was in a suit. Chloe was wearing that pink dress, leaning against Ethan's chest, smiling radiantly. And Leo, wearing a birthday hat, was unwrapping a mountain of gifts. When he opened an action figure, he excitedly opened his arms and threw himself at Chloe: "Thank you, Mommy! This is my absolute favorite toy!" Chloe crouched down and kissed him on the cheek, and Ethan kissed his other cheek. They looked like a picture-perfect family of three. I stood outside the door, my lips pressed tightly together. I had bought Leo the exact same toy. Ethan didn't give me much for living expenses. To make my son happy, I saved up and took on odd jobs, buying it a month in advance. When I bought it, I felt helpless—I couldn't believe a toy cost eight thousand dollars. I knew I'd have to skimp and save afterward. But this eight-thousand-dollar item was just one of many gifts from someone else. Laughter echoed through the room. Ethan spoke up: "Thank you all for coming to Leo's birthday party, and today is also the housewarming for our new home." "Leo's gifts are all opened. Next, I want to give a gift to my wife." He opened a velvet box. Inside was a bracelet set with crushed diamonds. "Chloe, thank you for everything you've done for me and our son. You've worked hard these past few years." Under everyone's gaze, he personally put it on her wrist. Then he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. Instantly, the kids screamed and the adults clapped. I saw Chloe's cheeks flush with happiness. I saw the undisguised tenderness and love in Ethan's eyes. And I saw Leo looking up, pure joy on his face. He probably thought it was completely natural for a father to love a mother. "Come on, come on! Let's take a family portrait to hang in the living room!" Egging them on, Ethan held Chloe's hand with one hand and picked up Leo with the other. The three of them faced the camera and shouted in unison, "Cheese—" As the shutter clicked, I pushed the door open and walked in: "It's so lively in here. Why didn't you invite me to take the family portrait?" The bustling living room went dead silent. Everyone looked at me in confusion. Only Ethan and Chloe's pupils contracted. Leo was also startled, blurting out: "Mommy..." I gave a faint hum of acknowledgment, then looked at Ethan. "Hubby, when did we buy a new house? How come I didn't know?" Chapter 2 5 Ethan instantly dropped Chloe's hand. "Stella, why are you here?" It was an absurd question, and I answered it with perfect justification: "Our family bought a new house, today is the housewarming, and it's my son Leo's birthday party. Why wouldn't I be here?" Ethan's face drained of color. Chloe looked like she had seen a ghost, shrinking behind Ethan until only a flash of her white dress was visible. The people in the room stood dumbfounded. One of the parents was the first to react: "What's going on... Mr. Vance, who is this woman? Why is she calling you hubby, and why did Leo call her mommy?" "Wait, isn't your wife Ms. Miller?" Ethan furrowed his brows tightly, opening his mouth to speak, but with Chloe present, whatever he said, he had to consider whether it would hurt her first. But I didn't have to consider anything. "I'd like to know too, hubby. Why is there another woman calling you hubby?" "Leo, why did you call her mommy?" "Could it be that my memory is failing me? But I brought our marriage certificate and the family registry today. Everyone, please help me check—did I walk into the wrong house, or identify the wrong person?" The marriage certificate and family registry were passed around the crowd, the whispers growing louder. "It really is Mr. Vance's marriage certificate... but why is the wife Stella Thorne? Chloe Miller's name isn't here at all." "Don't tell me Ms. Miller is the mistress?" "That's some bold mistress, openly calling him hubby and attending someone else's kid's kindergarten events." "Like father, like son. Leo Vance runs around kindergarten calling her mommy and even wrote her into his essay, and it turns out his real mom is someone else!" Their words grew harsher and harsher. Ethan couldn't take it anymore and snatched the documents back. "Stella, you go home first. This is complicated, I'll explain it to you slowly." He seemed to finally regain his senses, his face dark as he tried to push me out. But when he opened the door, a crowd of nosy neighbors had gathered outside. "Hey there, aren't we here for the housewarming? What's going on?" I threw my hands up in the air: "I thought it was our family's housewarming too. But I didn't expect my husband to have another wife. He bought this house for his other wife." "Stella! Stop talking!" Ethan roared, and the whispers died down instantly. The neighbors outside peeked in, scoffing disdainfully: "So it's a house bought for a mistress. How disgusting, living in the same complex as a homewrecker." "What the hell are you talking about!" Ethan grabbed the neighbor by the collar, gnashing his teeth in fury. The man wasn't afraid at all: "Not a mistress? Then show us your marriage certificate." A marriage certificate. Of course, he couldn't produce one. Ethan released him with a cold face and glared at me: "When did you find out?" "Does it matter?" "Stella! You did this on purpose. You wanted to humiliate us in public..." He swallowed the rest of his words. He clenched his fists, turning around to find everyone staring at him. The children, parents, and business partners who had come to offer their blessings were all looking at him with deep disappointment. Meanwhile, Chloe bit her lower lip, her eyes actually holding a glimmer of expectation. I saw her expectation, too. For all these years, she probably wanted nothing more than to be legitimized. Otherwise, she wouldn't have called last night, urging him to lay his cards on the table with me. In the oppressive silence, Leo started to cry. He had always been a crybaby. Every time he wanted something and Ethan rejected him with "Your mommy won't let you," he would throw a tantrum at me. Today was no different. "Mommy, why did you have to come? Mommy Chloe said she was taking me to Disneyland tonight, and now it's all ruined!" "Go back, go back right now! I don't want you, I don't want..." He cried his heart out. Even some of the other parents couldn't stand it. "Maybe the mother treats the child poorly? Otherwise, why would he accept someone else as his mom..." Hearing this, Chloe immediately picked him up, looking utterly heartbroken: "Stella, we'll explain everything to you properly later. But today is Leo's birthday party after all. Barging in like this will leave him traumatized." "Even if it's just for Leo's sake, could you please leave first?" "Actually, Ethan and I did all of this for Leo's growth. We just didn't expect you to find out... Sigh, Leo's going to have nightmares again tonight." With just a few words, she turned me into the villain abusing my own child. Sure enough, the other parents began accusing me: "Did you hit your kid? Otherwise, why would he cry and tell you to leave the second he sees you? He said he doesn't want you. You definitely treat him badly." "No wonder Mr. Vance had to find another woman to be Leo's mom. Look at how she acts as a mother! Look at how much Leo likes her!" "Exactly! You haven't attended any of the parent-child events in years; Ms. Miller was the one by his side. How do you have the nerve to show up now and rub salt in the kid's wounds!" Suddenly, the tide of public opinion turned against me, and Ethan's gloomy face brightened slightly. He didn't want to explain anything for me; he just wanted to nail down my "evil deeds." I snatched the marriage certificate and family registry back from him, then looked at the crying Leo: "Leo Vance. Tell me the truth. Have I ever hit you?"
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