Ever since my husband started staying at his late teammate's widow's house during every leave. I noticed my daughter began writing "My dad disappeared" in her essays. The teacher called to confirm. I was silent for a moment. Yes, it's been a long time. For Father's Day crafts in my daughter's class, they had to make cards for their dads. She lay at her desk, folded a paper airplane, and carefully wrote four words: "For Heaven." On parent visiting day, the walls were covered with children's essays titled "My Dad." My daughter wrote: My dad went to the neighbor lady's house. That lady kept crying, and then Dad disappeared and never came back. Later, my husband finally noticed something was wrong and rushed home in a panic, bringing flowers to celebrate our daughter's birthday. When the door opened, there was a new essay by my daughter on the table, titled "If Dad Were Still Alive." "Mia, is this how you teach our child?" Luke stared at the open composition book on the table. The top line, written in pencil, read "If Dad Were Still Alive." Luke's smile faded as his eyes widened. "I'm alive and well, and you let her write that I'm dead in her essay?!" He turned to look at me, raising his voice and slamming the cake he was holding onto the table. "I didn't teach her that." "She wrote it herself." Luke clenched his jaw and grabbed the composition book as if to tear it up. He stared at his daughter's handwriting for a moment, then put the book down. He had no idea this wasn't the first time Nina had written about him being dead in her essays. Ever since he brought his late teammate's widow, Linda, and her son back to our city, he ceased to exist as a father in our daughter's world. I said nothing more, just watched him coldly. Nina heard the commotion and walked out of the bedroom. She wore faded pajamas and hid behind me. She didn't run over to call him "Dad" like before, nor did she cry in fear at Luke's rage. She just looked at Luke with calm eyes. Like looking at a stranger. That look was more piercing than any tantrum. Luke's breathing hitched, and all his anger seemed to lodge in his throat, blocked by his daughter's indifferent expression. He tugged irritably at his tie, suppressing his temper, and pulled a shoebox from the bag behind him. "Nina, come here." He tried to make his voice sound gentle. "Dad passed by the mall today and bought you the ballet shoes you wanted most." "Aren't you taking your exam next month?" "Come try them on and see if they fit." Those were the ballet shoes Nina had been looking at in the shop window for three months. Luke always said he'd buy them "next time." If this were before, Nina would have jumped for joy. But now, Nina didn't move. Seeing this, Luke sighed and knelt down on his own, opening the shoebox and reaching for his daughter's foot. Just as his hand was about to touch Nina's ankle. His phone rang. It was a special ringtone—soft music. Everyone at the security company knew this was Linda's exclusive ringtone. Luke's hand snapped back as if electrocuted. He reflexively stood up and pulled out his phone to answer. "Linda, what's wrong?" His voice carried a tenderness and urgency he himself hadn't even noticed. Linda's pitiful crying came through the phone. "Luke, I'm sorry to bother you again." "But Ryan had an asthma attack in the middle of the night. He's crying and calling for Uncle Luke." "I really can't handle him alone. I'm so scared." Standing nearby, I heard this clumsy yet familiar sob story and felt my stomach churn. Luke's expression changed. He didn't hesitate for a second. He casually tossed the ballet shoes onto the carpet and grabbed his car keys. "Mia, watch our daughter. Ryan's situation is urgent. I have to go over there right now." He said it so righteously, as if abandoning his biological daughter to care for someone else's son was perfectly natural. Bang. The door slammed shut. He didn't even look back at his daughter. The house fell silent as death. Nina walked forward and looked down at the ballet shoes. Then she bent down, picked up the shoes, and threw them into the nearby trash can. "Mom." Nina turned to look at me, her voice floating. "Dead people don't buy shoes, right?" My heart felt like it was being torn apart, and even breathing carried the taste of blood. I knelt down and hugged my daughter tightly, stroking her hair. "Right." After Nina fell asleep, I sat alone in the study and opened the bottom drawer. Inside lay a transfer notification already stamped with the official seal. I'm an orthopedic attending physician. To accommodate Luke's work, I'd given up three opportunities to study at the best orthopedic hospital in America. But now, I didn't want to stay in this cesspool anymore. I picked up a red pen and heavily circled a date on the desk calendar fifteen days away. That was the final deadline to report for the transfer. In fifteen days, my daughter and I would leave this city. As if this person had never existed in our lives.
Countdown Day 10. I'd just finished a six-hour emergency surgery and dragged my exhausted body home. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I froze. The front door was wide open, and I could hear moving workers shouting inside. I hurried in, and the scene before my eyes made my blood run cold. The living room was a mess. Several workers were carrying the piano out of Nina's study. Luke stood to the side in casual clothes, directing them. "Be careful, don't scratch the edges. This piano's expensive." That was the Steinway piano I'd saved up three years' worth of night shift pay to buy for Nina's fifth birthday. Nina polished it every single day, treating it like her most precious possession. "Luke, what are you doing?" I walked over with a cold face, blocking the workers. Luke saw me come home early, and a flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was quickly covered by self-righteousness. "Don't make trouble here." "Linda just rented a new place. Ryan's being teased at school for not having a dad. The doctor said learning piano could heal his psychological trauma." He paused. "Linda's raising a kid alone—it's not easy. She can't afford a piano this nice." "Nina hasn't been playing much lately anyway. We'll just lend it to Ryan for a bit." I listened to his absurdly twisted logic and laughed in anger. Using his biological daughter's treasure to fill another child's wounds? How could he make such blatant favoritism sound so reasonable? If this were before, I definitely would have rushed over and fought with him to keep the piano. Instead, I took out my phone, opened the video function, and recorded the workers' movements and Luke's face. "What are you recording?" Luke frowned and stepped forward to grab my phone. I stepped back, avoiding his hand. "Keeping evidence." "This is marital property. You're privately transferring it to an outsider. I have the right to record it." Luke's face darkened. "Mia, why have you become so cold and calculating?" "That's Sean's son!" "Sean died saving me! It's just a damn piano. Do you really need to be so petty?" He pulled out his phone and transferred five thousand dollars to me. "Fine, consider this me buying it out." "Just go buy Nina a cheaper electric keyboard to practice on." With that, he directed the workers to carry the piano out. The door closed. I looked at the empty study and felt suffocated. Not long after, Nina came home from school. She walked to the study door with her backpack and stopped. The space where the piano had been was empty, leaving only four indentations on the wooden floor. Nina didn't cry or ask me where the piano went. She just silently walked back to her room and opened the composition book Luke had crumpled. She picked up her pencil and quietly wrote a fourth essay. The title was "My Dead Dad Took My Piano Away Too." I stood outside the door watching my daughter's thin silhouette, my eyes stinging. My phone vibrated. I opened SnapChat—it was a post from Linda's feed. In the photo, Ryan sat at that piano, smiling brightly. The caption read: Ryan finally has his first piano. Thank you to dearest Captain Luke for giving us mother and son the light to live. Below it was Luke's like. I stared at that photo for a long time, then finally liked it too. I switched out of SnapChat and opened my banking app, paying the full balance on the house in my transfer location all at once. Right after I completed the payment, Luke sent a text. [Once Ryan's emotions stabilize, I'll take leave next weekend and take Nina to Disneyland to make it up to her.] [Stop teaching our kid to hold grudges.] I looked at the word "make it up" on the screen and sneered mockingly. I didn't reply. He didn't know there would be no next weekend.
Countdown Day 3. Today was the awards ceremony for the provincial children's art competition. Nina wore the new princess dress I'd bought her and sat in the front row of the art gallery. Her eyes were fixed on the entrance doors, unblinking. I sat beside her, holding her slightly sweaty little hand, my heart aching. I knew that man wouldn't come, but children always hope. Nina said quietly, "Mom, Dad said he'd definitely come watch me receive my award today." I didn't speak, just held her hand tighter. Ten minutes before the ceremony began, my phone lit up. Luke sent a message. [Emergency task came up. Can't get away.] [Tell Nina I'm sorry for me.] The familiar excuse. The familiar broken promise. I turned my phone face down on my lap without telling Nina. Nina looked back at the entrance. "Maybe he's stuck in traffic." The ceremony proceeded smoothly. The host picked up the microphone. "Now, we'll reveal the grand prize winner of this competition!" Nina's hand squeezed my fingers. "The winning piece: 'Dad in the Flames'!" The big screen lit up, displaying Nina's painting. The Luke in the picture wore rescue gear, his back to the flames. She'd spent half a month painting this picture of her dad. It was filled with her admiration for him. Nina stood up and looked back at me. "Mom! It's my painting!" I smiled, ready to push her toward the stage. The host continued, "Please welcome the winner, Ryan Sean, to receive the award!" The smile on Nina's face froze. The signature in the bottom right corner of the screen read "Ryan Sean," not "Nina Brown." Her painting—the signature had been changed to Linda's son's name. Nina stood frozen in place, opening her mouth but making no sound. A parent nearby leaned over, whispering, "Why did that little girl stand up? Didn't they call Ryan?" Nina heard it. She sat back down in her chair and lowered her head. I clenched my fists and walked straight toward the family section. Linda was just standing up with Ryan, straightening his tie. I blocked her path. "Linda, stop right there." Linda looked up, the smile still on her face. "Oh, Mia, you're here too?" I stared at her. "That painting was drawn by my daughter. What right does your son have to sign it?" Linda stepped back, lowering her voice and shrinking her shoulders. "Mia, don't be angry. Luke handled this himself. I didn't know anything..." She paused, then leaned closer, speaking in a voice only we could hear, and smiled. "But Mia, who drew the picture doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is who Luke wants to cherish." "So what if your daughter stayed up late every night painting? With one word, Luke gave all her hard work to our Ryan, didn't he?" "That's what they call love by association. No matter how angry you get, you can't change the fact that Luke doesn't care about you two at all." "You're shameless!" Looking at her face, I raised my hand and slapped her. Linda's head snapped to the side as she clutched her face and cried out. I was about to drag her to find the organizers when someone rushed out from the side and shoved me hard. "Mia! What the hell is wrong with you!" I was pushed back several steps, my lower back hitting the back of a chair. I bent over in pain. I looked up. It was Luke. He protected Linda and Ryan behind him, glaring at me with red eyes. Linda buried herself against Luke's back, crying. "Luke, it hurts so much... Don't blame Mia. It's my fault. I shouldn't have let Ryan accept this award. I'll return it..." Luke saw the red mark on Linda's face, held her tighter, then turned and pointed at me angrily. "Mia, are you sick! Hitting people in public—do you realize you look like a shrew right now!" I steadied myself against the chair and looked at him. "Luke, that painting took Nina half a month to finish. You put Ryan's name on it, and now you're shoving me for this woman?" "It's just a painting!" Luke cut me off. "Nina can paint more! Ryan grew up without a father! He's being mocked by classmates! He needs this kind of recognition to build confidence!" "Sean died saving me! What's wrong with giving an award to his son?" "As an elder, you have no generosity at all. You even hit Linda. You're completely unreasonable!" Shrew. Unreasonable. My daughter had her work stolen—the painting of her father stolen. I sought justice, and in return, her biological father shoved me to the ground for another woman. I shut my mouth. Ryan was led onto the stage by staff. He held up the trophy, standing in front of Nina's painting, smiling at the camera. Linda leaned into Luke's embrace, the corners of her mouth lifting. She picked up the microphone, her voice choking. "Ryan could have today all thanks to his godfather, Captain Luke..." "Captain Luke treats us mother and son better than family..." Luke sighed. "Mom." A voice called from behind. I turned around. Nina stood not far away. She looked at Ryan holding the trophy, at Luke embracing Linda, at me clutching my waist. "Nina..." I tried to reach for her. Nina stepped back. She looked down at the contestant badge on her chest. She reached out and tore the badge apart bit by bit, throwing it into a nearby trash can. She stood up and dusted off her hands. "Mom, let's go." My daughter kept her little face tense, forcing back tears. My heart was breaking. I walked over and hugged my daughter tightly without a word. I turned and left that place. I didn't argue anymore. Arguing with a blind and heartless man was pointless. When we got home, Nina sat in her room for a long time, then opened her composition book and wrote a new entry. The title was "Dad Gave My Painting to Someone Else and Hit Mom for Them." I opened the booking app and changed our flight tickets to the day after tomorrow.
The day before leaving. I took Nina to buy necessities at the downtown mall. The mall was crowded with people. Nina held my hand and stopped as we passed a pizza restaurant. I followed her gaze. Through the glass, I saw Luke. He was patiently cutting a small piece of pizza with a knife and fork, blowing on it, then carefully feeding it to Ryan. Linda sat beside him, smiling happily, naturally pulling out a napkin to wipe sauce from the corner of Luke's mouth. A family of three, happy and harmonious. Watching this scene, I actually felt like laughing. This was his so-called emergency task. His lie exposed right to my face—ridiculous and ironic. Nina's little hand gripped the corner of my clothes tightly as she asked quietly, "Mom, isn't Dad supposed to be working?" I laughed coldly and pulled Nina to leave. A piercing alarm suddenly sounded. The next second, a massive explosion erupted from the kitchen in the first-floor dining area. Flames and thick smoke burst through the mall's interior glass walls. The crowd screamed and surged toward the emergency exits. "Nina!" I shouted, instinctively grabbing my daughter's hand. But the crowd was like a madness with no direction. A burly man crashed into me from the side. My back hit something and I stumbled, falling to the ground. My hand was empty. "Mom!" By the time I scrambled up, thick smoke had spread to the second floor. I searched through the crowd. Through the black smoke, I saw Nina fall under a counter. She was blocked by a fallen advertising board. Just then, a figure rushed out. It was Luke. He immediately began evacuating people. He saw her! He saw his daughter fallen under the counter! From the other side came Linda's scream. "Luke!" "Help!" "Ryan's trapped under a shelf!" Luke's body went rigid. He turned back, staring at his biological daughter so close by, his eyes filled with a struggle I couldn't understand. That struggle lasted less than two seconds. He shouted toward Nina. "Nina, don't move!" "Dad will come back for you after getting Ryan out!" With that, I watched him decisively turn and rush toward that other woman and her child. He picked up Ryan, protecting Linda as they rushed toward the safety passage. In a life-or-death moment, he abandoned his biological daughter once again. Watching this scene, I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. With one "wait a moment," he gave up on his own daughter. In the billowing smoke. Nina watched Luke disappear, her small body motionless. She stopped crying, stopped calling out. She just slowly lowered the little hand covering her nose and mouth, letting the choking black smoke pour into her throat. A tear slid down her cheek as her lips moved. "Mom, Dad went to save someone else... Today, Nina really has no dad anymore." Those words pierced through my last shred of rationality. I screamed, grabbed a fire extinguisher from the corner, and smashed at the obstacles blocking the way like a madwoman. "Nina!" "Mom's here!" "Mom's here!" I scooped up my daughter, who was about to lose consciousness, covered her face with my jacket, and rushed out. The moment I ran out of the fire scene, an ambulance had just arrived. I rushed onto the vehicle carrying my oxygen-deprived daughter. Outside the emergency room, the red light came on. I collapsed onto the bench. I took out my phone and opened my lawyer's chat. [I've signed the divorce agreement.] [Go through litigation. Cut all ties completely.] After sending it, I opened the booking app. I changed our originally tomorrow's flight to tonight's earliest available one. I didn't want to stay in this place for one more second. Luke, you've lost us forever.
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