When my father heard his first love had died, he was shattered. He immediately donated his million-dollar fortune and renounced the world to join a secluded monastery. He left my mother to raise two children on the streets. We nearly starved. Later, my mother clawed our way back. She collected cans, started a small food cart, and not only fed my brother and me but eventually opened a restaurant and bought a house. The day we moved into our new home, the father who had been gone for ten years came back. He had cancer. He wanted us to pay for his treatment. 1 I was at work when my aunt Brenda called. “Mia, honey, I have the most wonderful news! Your father is back. Aren’t you just thrilled?” Her cheerful voice made me freeze. That man. The one who, ten years ago, abandoned his wife and children for a dead woman and disappeared from our lives. Why was he back now? My throat tightened. “Where is he?” “Oh, he’s almost at your front door! You must have missed him so much all these years!” she chirped. “Don’t you worry, he’s back for good this time. Your family can finally be whole again! You should come home right now, Mia!” I hung up, my heart pounding. Did Mom know? She was the kindest, most soft-hearted person I knew. It took her years to recover after he left. Our lives were finally stable. I couldn’t bear to see her hurt again. I immediately called her. On the other end, I could hear her haggling cheerfully at the market. “Mia? Honey, I’m in the middle of stocking up. What’s up?” Her voice calmed me a little. It seemed she didn’t know he was back. There was still time. I had to get rid of that man before she came home. “Mom,” I said, forcing my voice to sound casual, “I’m craving shrimp for dinner tonight. After you’re done, could you pick up a couple of pounds? The big ones.” “Oh, shrimp! They’re not easy to find this time of year, but don’t you worry, sweetie. I’ll see what I can do after I’m finished here.” “Great. No rush, take your time.” I hung up, asked my boss for a half-day off, and grabbed a cab home. 2 A man and a woman were standing in front of our townhouse. I had no idea how they’d gotten into our gated community. The middle-aged man was dressed in simple linen clothes and a beanie. He was staring at the house with an impatient frown. “Didn’t you call her? Why isn’t she back yet? This is ridiculous.” He had aged. The face that was once handsome was now sallow and puffy, but his air of self-importance was the same as ever. He still thought the world revolved around him. Looking at him, a bitter feeling rose in my chest. Back then, he’d been a literature grad with a superiority complex, constantly looking down on my mother and belittling her for being an uneducated housewife. He openly carried a photo of his first love, Eleanor, writing poems and painting portraits of her. When he heard she had died, he stood on the balcony and smoked all night. I was little, but I remember him clutching her picture, tears streaming down his face, whispering, “Eleanor, I’m coming to join you.” The next day, he sold our house, donated every penny of his million-dollar fortune, and left to join a monastery. While the media ran stories about their tragic, epic love, my mother and I were being evicted, homeless on the streets. No one gave a damn how we would survive. I truly had no idea how he had the gall to show his face again. “Mia! You’re back!” Aunt Brenda saw me and waved excitedly. “Come over here, sweetie! What’s wrong? Are you just too happy to see your father to move?” My father followed her gaze. He blinked, and his face soured. “What took you so long? Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?” I ignored him and asked coldly, “What are you doing here?” My lack of enthusiasm clearly annoyed him. “What are we doing here? Who do you think we are? Has it been so long you’ve forgotten how to greet your own father? You have no manners. What has that idiot Helena been teaching you?” Hearing him insult my mother sent a hot wave of fury through me. Did he still think he was the king of this family? Who was going to put up with that now? “Who’s the idiot calling someone an idiot?” I snapped back. “I’m calling your mother an… you little brat! How dare you speak to me like that!” He realized what I’d said and, sputtering with rage, raised his hand to strike me. Brenda quickly grabbed his arm. “No, no! Don’t! You two have just been reunited, why are you fighting already?” She held him back, giving him a sharp look, then turned to me with a strained smile. “Mia, don’t be like that. I know you’ve missed your father terribly all these years, and you’re hurt. But he’s missed you too. He came back to make things right…” “Make things right?” I said, my voice sharp as glass. “When he donated every cent we had and left us homeless, did he ever think about what would happen to Mom? To my brother and me? And now he wants to ‘make things right’? Who needs it!” My father stared at me, genuinely shocked. “What do you mean, I left you homeless? That was my money. I earned it all. Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own property?” He puffed out his chest. “Besides, I was grieving! As my daughter, why couldn’t you have a little compassion for what I was going through? Is money more important to you than love?” I had thought, hoped, he might feel a shred of guilt. But he was so brazenly self-righteous. I almost laughed. There was no point in arguing. “I’m not getting into this with you. Please leave. You’re not welcome here.” Sensing things were escalating, Brenda quickly intervened. “Mia, your dad didn’t mean it like that. Why don’t we all go inside and talk? Let’s calm down. We don’t want to make a scene for the neighbors.” “You are not setting foot in this house today. If you have any shame, you’ll leave now. Don’t make me call security.” “How dare you talk to me like that! I’m your father!” he roared, lunging for me again. Brenda held him back, frantically signaling him with her eyes. He took a breath and lowered his hand, a cold smirk on his face. “Fine. Just fine. I see you’ve grown into a heartless, ungrateful monster. I won’t waste my breath on you. I’ll wait for your mother. Let’s see if she dares to lock me out.” I clenched my fists. His confidence wasn’t baseless. Years ago, my mother had been the one to admire and pursue him. He only reluctantly agreed to marry her. Throughout their marriage, she had been submissive, catering to his every whim. She forgave his affairs and never once blamed him. If she saw him now, she might just soften and forgive him all over again. I couldn’t let that happen. “I said you’re not welcome! Get out of here! Security! Security! There are intruders! Help!” I shrieked, grabbing a nearby garden broom and swinging it wildly, like I was chasing off a stray dog. If they wouldn’t leave, I would drive them away. “Mia, are you crazy?!” my father yelled, dodging my swings, his face streaked with dirt. “How dare you treat your own father like this! You’ll be struck by lightning for this!” “My name is Thorne! After my mother!” I screamed, then noticed a small pile of dog mess near the curb. I jabbed the broom into it and lunged at them. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” In the middle of the chaotic scene, I heard a familiar voice. “Mia?” I froze. At the end of the street, holding grocery bags, stood my mother. She was staring at us, her expression one of utter shock. Why was she back so early? 3 I tried to block her view of my father, but it was too late. Her eyes landed on him. He froze, too. The woman before him wore an elegant silk dress, her makeup subtle, her posture graceful. She was a world away from the dowdy, overweight housewife he remembered. He looked flustered. Wiping the grime from his face, he forced an awkward smile. “Helena. I’m back. And this time, I’m not leaving.” I looked at my mother anxiously, terrified she was about to have her heart broken all over again. But she just smiled faintly. “Oh, it’s you, Arthur.” Her calm smile confused me. I rushed to her side. “Mom, let’s call security and have them removed!” But she gently chided me. “Mia! What are you saying? That’s so rude. He is your father, after all.” Hearing my mother defend him, my father visibly relaxed. He’d clearly been worried she would be resentful, that he’d have to work to win her over. Now, it seemed his worries were for nothing. The woman was probably just thrilled to have him back. A smug expression crept onto his face, and he slipped back into his old, condescending demeanor. He pointed at me. “You see the kind of daughter you’ve raised? She’s a real handful.” My mother glanced at me and shook her head with a smile. “That’s just Mia’s way. Don’t mind her.” Not wanting to look petty, my father forced a laugh. “Why would I mind?” He reached for her hand. “Helena, these past few years…” But she smoothly sidestepped his touch and smiled at me. “Mia, open the door. Let your father in.” “Mom! Why should we let him in?” “Open the door. Are you going to disobey your mother?” I bit my lip and reluctantly took out my keys. My father watched her walk towards the house. He was slightly annoyed she’d avoided his touch, but he figured she was entitled to a little tantrum after all this time. It wasn’t worth arguing about. His good mood returned, and without waiting for an invitation, he strode into the house. 4 Our new home had been professionally designed. It was minimalist and spacious, and it always impressed visitors. My father looked around, a satisfied expression on his face. “Not bad, not bad. It’s big and bright. It’ll be a good place for me to read. The décor is a bit tacky, of course. You women have no taste. But that’s fine, I can change it later…” My mother said nothing. She carried the groceries to the kitchen. “It’s almost six. The realtor said our first meal in a new house should be eaten by seven. We’re running late. Mia, come help me peel the garlic.” “Mom…” I whispered, glaring at my father and aunt. Why were they here? Why was she cooking for them? “Mia,” she said in a warning tone. “Don’t make me angry.” “Coming,” I grumbled. I stomped into the kitchen and sat on a small stool, furiously peeling garlic. My mom was just too nice, too accommodating. That’s why people always took advantage of her. In the living room, my father and aunt made themselves at home on the sofa. “This house is amazing,” Brenda whispered to my father, clutching his arm. “Just amazing.” “It is. Spacious, good location, plenty of rooms.” My father spread his legs, already acting like the man of the house. “We don’t even need all these rooms. You and your son can move in with us. No more renting for you. We can all live together as one big, happy family.” “Oh, yes! Yes!” Brenda beamed, looking around as if the house were already hers. She glanced nervously toward the kitchen. “You were right, Arthur. Helena really doesn’t hold a grudge.” My father scoffed. “Of course she doesn’t. You think I don’t know her?” He grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds from a bowl on the coffee table and started cracking them, whispering with Brenda. When they ran out of things to say, he glanced at his watch and called out to the kitchen, “Helena, where’s our son? Did you tell him I was coming?” My mother was busy with the shrimp. Without turning around, she replied, “He’ll be home soon. Leo has class until late.” My father nodded proudly. “That boy, Leo… he’s a good kid. Got into a top university, even got accepted into a master’s program. Didn’t waste my good genes. Thank god he’s not like you. If he were, he probably wouldn’t even be able to do basic math.” He grew more pleased with himself as he spoke, having completely forgotten that my mother was no longer the dependent housewife she once was. I was about to snap back when the front door opened. “Son!” My father jumped up from the sofa and rushed to embrace him. “My boy! You look just like me!” he said, overjoyed, holding my brother at arm’s length to get a better look. My brother, Leo, stiffened, taking a hesitant step back. “Dad?” “Yes, son, it’s me! I’m back for good. Aren’t you happy?” Leo stared at him, his expression a mixture of confusion and shock. “What are you doing here?” He looked from me to my mother. “Mom? Mia? What’s going on?” My father turned to my mother, annoyed. “Helena, why didn’t you tell him I was coming? You should have given him a chance to prepare. Look at him, he’s speechless with joy.” My mother didn’t turn around. “It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing to talk about.” “Not a big deal? My return isn’t a big deal? Fine…” He turned back to Leo. “Just got out of class? You’re a senior, why do you still have so many classes?” “Lab work,” Leo said flatly. After a long, tense silence, he walked into the kitchen. “Mom, let me help. The fumes are strong, I don’t want you to breathe it all in.” “It’s alright, honey, everything’s done. You and Mia go sit at the table. It’s time to eat. Here, take this.” She handed him a dish and patted my shoulder, telling us to go wait in the dining room. When the food was on the table, my father sat down immediately. “Not bad, Helena. You may not have much else going for you, but you can certainly cook.” Aunt Brenda hesitated, but my father waved her over. “This is your home. Don’t be a stranger.” He sat with his legs spread, waiting to be served. Then, my mother came out with the rice. Three bowls. Three sets of cutlery. There was nothing in front of my father or Aunt Brenda. My father blinked, then laughed awkwardly. “Oh, right. Appetizers first, then the main course. You still remember my habits, Helena.” His eyes landed on the platter of shrimp, and he reached for one. “It was sweet of you to remember I love shrimp…” “Don’t touch that.” My mother, who had been so quiet, extended her chopsticks and slapped his hand away. She sat down, her voice calm. “Those are for Mia. I had to call three different friends to find shrimp this big. If you eat them, what will she have?”
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