My mom doesn’t do dishes. She doesn’t make beds. But her car… her car is spotless. She treats it like her most prized possession, cleaning it out every day after work until it gleams. Today, Dad asked me to grab a file he’d left in there. As I felt around under the passenger seat, my fingers brushed against something small and metallic on the floor mat. I picked it up. It was a shiny silver cufflink. “Dad,” I called out, holding it up. “When did you get a cufflink just like Mr. Davies’s?” 1 My dad’s hand, reaching for the file, froze in mid-air. His eyes fixed on the object in my palm, and the smile on his face slowly dissolved. “What is it, Dad?” He didn’t answer. He just took the cufflink from me, his fingers rubbing the cold metal as he held it up to the light. After a long moment, he tossed it into the center console, his voice trembling just slightly. “It’s nothing. I’ve never seen it before. Must be some trash that got tracked into the car.” He took my hand and led me back upstairs, his pace much faster than usual. When we got inside, he didn’t sit down to build Legos with me like he normally would. He didn’t turn on the financial news. He just stood by the front door, waiting for Mom to come home. The dim light of the entryway stretched his shadow long and thin across the floor. Mom was on the phone when she walked in, her voice bright and cheerful. “Honey, I’m home!” she chirped. She opened her arms for a hug, but Dad took a sharp step back, his eyes locked on her. Her arms fell awkwardly to her sides. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t speak. He just bent down to take her briefcase, his nose brushing against the fabric of her blazer as he did. “Nicole,” he said, his voice flat. “You smell like men’s cologne.” Mom blinked, then forced a laugh that didn’t sound real. “Oh, you know. I was in a meeting with a male client, we were standing close. It must have just rubbed off.” She started to explain more, but Dad didn’t let her. He just opened his hand. The shiny silver cufflink lay in his palm. “Is that so?” he asked. “Did this client also happen to leave his cufflink under your passenger seat?” The color drained from my mother’s face. She stared at the cufflink, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came out. After a few seconds of dead silence, she snatched it from my dad’s hand and threw it on the floor. Her voice turned to ice. “What are you trying to say? You’re going to interrogate me over some stray cufflink and a hint of cologne? The child is right here!” She pulled me behind her, crouching down to squeeze my cheeks. “Joey, sweetie, you know Mommy only has eyes for you and Daddy.” With that, she walked into the master bathroom and shut the door. A moment later, I heard the sound of the shower running. Dad just stood there, completely still. I walked over and tugged on his sleeve. “Dad, is what Mom said true?” He bent down and kissed my cheek. “Of course, it is.” But all I could see were my dad’s eyes, the light completely gone out of them. 2 The next day at school, as soon as I walked into the classroom, I smelled something familiar. It was the exact same scent that had been on my mom’s clothes the night before. My head snapped up, and I stared at my teacher, Mr. Davies. He was wearing a nice tracksuit today, and his short hair was styled perfectly. He had these two little fangs that showed when he smiled. I thought he was handsome. “Mr. Davies, you smell really good.” He seemed surprised for a second, then a glint appeared in his eye. He smiled and ruffled my hair. “It’s a new cologne someone got for me. You like it?” I nodded enthusiastically. When I got home, I told my dad what happened. “Dad! Mr. Davies was wearing the same cologne that was on Mom’s clothes yesterday!” My dad was peeling an apple. The knife clattered against the ceramic bowl. He just looked at me, his lips moving slightly, but he didn’t say a word. From then on, I could tell Dad was sad. When he read me stories, his mind was somewhere else. But when he hugged me, he held me tighter than ever before. One night, I woke up to use the bathroom and heard my mom talking on the phone out on the balcony. She was keeping her voice low, but I could still make out the words. “Of course I miss you… stop it, you.” “Joey’s doing so well in school, it’s all thanks to you. Yes, I told him Mr. Davies is the best teacher ever.” I tiptoed to the door and peeked through the crack. Mom was leaning back in a chair, holding her phone, a soft, gentle look on her face that I had never seen before. A floorboard creaked in my dad’s bedroom, and she immediately ended the call, her smile vanishing. She pushed the balcony door open and jumped when she saw me standing there. “Joey? Why are you still awake?” I looked up at her. “Mom, was that Mr. Davies?” Her face went stiff. “No, honey. It was just a colleague from work. We were talking about a project.” She picked me up, carried me back to my room, and tucked me into bed. “Go to sleep now. Little boys shouldn’t worry about grown-up things.” But I lay there, wide awake. She was lying. I knew that voice. It was him. The next day, Dad was zoning out again while reading me a picture book. I looked at his tired face and decided to tell him my big discovery, hoping it would cheer him up. “Mr. Davies has a new messaging account. The profile picture isn’t the one he uses for the class group.” I said it like I was sharing a secret. “That’s the one Mom was talking to last night. I saw it.” My dad’s whole body went rigid. He took a few big gulps of water before asking, trying to sound casual, “Joey, do you… do you remember the username?” I nodded proudly. “Of course! The one Mom was chatting with has a gold medal for a profile picture. From when he won that coaching award!” I continued, “The username is his initials, M.D., then the number 520, and then the letters N.S.” My dad’s face went white. I could hear his breathing get faster and faster. After what felt like forever, he forced a few words through his teeth. “Nicole Shaw… Nicole Shaw…” That’s my mom’s name. I’d never heard him say her name like that before. It scared me. I whispered, “Dad?” I didn’t dare look at his face. In that moment, my own heart felt like it was being squeezed into a tight little ball. 3 That night, I woke up for a drink of water and saw the light was still on in my dad’s study. I crept to the door and peeked through the crack. The blue light from the screen made his face look pale and ghostly. He was holding his phone, his expression grim, as if he’d finally made a terrible decision. I watched as he went to my school’s website, found the faculty page, and clicked on Mr. Davies’s picture. The man in the photo had the same short hair, the same handsome smile he wore during the day. Then, Dad opened a secondary messaging account he used for online coupons. In the search bar, he typed in the initials I’d told him. First M.D., then he hesitated, before adding my mother’s initials, N.S., and finally, that glaring number: 520. An account popped up. The profile picture was a gold medal. The exact one I’d seen on my mom’s phone. My dad’s fingers were shaking badly as he tapped on the profile. The feed was filled with pictures of Mr. Davies on trips with a woman, both of them laughing, looking blissfully happy. The woman’s face was never shown. But the trench coat she was wearing… it was identical to the one in my mother’s closet. The most recent post was from my dad’s birthday. It was a selfie of Mr. Davies wearing a brand-new watch. I recognized it instantly. It was the one my dad had stared at in the display case at the mall for so long, the one my mom said was too expensive to buy. And now it was on Mr. Davies’s wrist. The caption read: Thanks, my love. You always know exactly what I want. There was only one ‘like’ on the post, and a comment I couldn’t quite make out before— Clatter. The phone slipped from my dad’s hand and hit the floor. The sound startled me, and a small gasp escaped my lips. I tried to run, but it was too late. Dad was already standing in the doorway. He saw me staring at the phone screen, and his expression turned dark. I walked over and tugged on his sleeve. “Dad, is that Mom’s account that liked the picture?” My voice was small. “She said she only had you and me in her heart. Does she still mean it?” Dad thought for a long, long time. Then he knelt, pulled me into a hug, and rested his chin on my shoulder. His voice was muffled. “Back then… I think she probably did.” From that day on, the air in our house felt heavy and strange. Dad stopped asking Mom why she came home late. He stopped checking her clothes. Mom started coming home on time, and even suggested taking us out to dinner. But Dad would just refuse quietly. “I’m tired. I don’t feel like going out.” Mom would just sigh and say he was “having one of his episodes again.” I would grab my dad’s hand anxiously, asking him what kind of episode, if he was in pain. He would just force a bitter smile, turn his head so I couldn’t see his eyes, and mutter, “Just go do your homework.” It only took a few more days for me to understand. Dad wasn’t sick. I was. 4 My dad came to school that day. He said he was dropping off a workbook I’d forgotten and told me to head home first. But I had a bad feeling. I followed him quietly, all the way to Mr. Davies’s office. The office was empty, but a faint scent of perfume hung in the air. It was the kind my mom always wore. On the sofa, I saw a few long, curly hairs, just like hers. There were also two crumpled-up takeout receipts on the desk. The phone number on them was my mom’s. I thought maybe she had come to pick me up. I decided to follow Dad and surprise her. It started to rain. I saw my mom’s car parked in the small alley behind the school. From a distance, I could see her leaning against it, talking to a man. The man was looking down at her, gently smoothing the collar of her coat that the wind had messed up. It was Mr. Davies. They were standing so close. My mom was smiling, a sweet, happy smile. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and suddenly kissed him on the cheek. Mr. Davies touched his face, then wrapped his arm around her waist with a fond smile. His umbrella tilted and fell, shielding both of them from my view. And my dad… my dad was standing behind a tree not far away, watching them. The wind whipped my dad’s hair across his face as he turned, a stiff, wooden figure disappearing into the twilight. In that moment, I felt like my dad was being stolen. Not my mom. My dad. A wild rage filled me, and I started running. I had to get my mom back for him. 5 I burst through the curtain of rain and slammed myself between my mom and Mr. Davies. Their smiles froze on their faces. My mom grabbed me and pulled me aside, her voice a harsh, urgent whisper. “What are you doing here? Go home, now!” I started crying, telling her I wanted to go home with her, but she just frowned and said she had important things to do. I pointed a shaking finger at Mr. Davies, my voice rising to a shout. “It’s him! He’s the one making Dad sad!” My mom tilted her umbrella further toward Mr. Davies, not even looking at me as she sneered, “Your dad is sick in the head. What does that have to do with anyone else?” “You’re leaving us, aren’t you!” She finally looked at me then, a mocking smile on her lips. “Did your dad teach you to say that? Tell him to cut the drama.” She looked down at me, her voice sharp. “And you, Joey. You’re a big boy now. Stop being sick, just like your father!” Her casual words felt like a knife twisting in my chest. “I want my mommy!” I screamed at her. Her face darkened, her patience gone. “Nobody likes a whiny little boy, Joey. Not me, and not your dad when you act like this.” She went on and on, her voice getting louder, until Mr. Davies finally stepped in to calm her down. I didn’t understand. Why was she yelling at Dad? Why was she listening to Mr. Davies? She was the one who said she only loved me and Dad. It was all his fault. My mind went blank with anger. I launched myself at Mr. Davies, hitting and kicking him with all my strength. “You’re a bad man! You stole my mom! You hurt my dad!” Mr. Davies yelped in surprise, his nice tracksuit getting smudged with dirt. SMACK! A loud crack echoed in the alley. My ear rang, and one side of my face went numb. The person who hit me… was my mother. Her eyes were bloodshot as she pointed at me, screaming, “Apologize! Apologize to Mr. Davies, right now!” Mr. Davies cowered behind her, grabbing her arm. “Nicole, stop, he’s just a kid…” That only made her angrier. “A kid? This is how his father taught him to behave? To throw tantrums and make a scene? He’s just like his neurotic dad!” She lunged at me, shoving me to the ground. She pushed my face into the mud and tried to force me to my knees. “If you don’t apologize, you can stay here and kneel all night!” Her voice was like thunder, shaking my whole body. The look in her eyes was terrifying. I bit my lip, too scared to say anything. I just wanted my dad. That night, I don’t remember how I got home. I locked myself in my room, refusing to eat or speak, just hugging my knees and crying. Dad pushed the door open. When he saw the red mark on my face, he cried out. “Joey! What happened to your face?” He rushed over, his hands trembling as he cupped my cheeks. Seeing the pain in his eyes, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed. “It was Mom…” Between gasps, I told him everything that had happened. He held me, his body shaking even more than mine. He was crying, hot tears falling onto my neck. That night, I came down with a high fever. My mom didn't come home. It was Dad who carried me, running through the hospital corridors in the middle of the night. I’d never heard him sound like that before, his voice broken and full of despair as he yelled into the phone. “…He’s just a kid! How could you lay a hand on him!” “A meeting? Nicole, you tell me, what meeting is more important than your son!” “Nicole! Joey has a raging fever! …You want him to ‘reflect on his behavior’? You think he’s faking it? Nicole! You’re a monster!” The way he looked scared me. He didn’t say another word, just hung up. It was all my fault. I tried to protect Dad and just made everything worse. I made Mom leave. I was a terrible son. No wonder she wanted me to apologize. I gathered my courage and stood in front of my dad. “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t protect you. I couldn’t get Mom to come back…” Before I could finish, he pulled me into a tight hug, his voice choked with sobs. “It’s not your fault, Joey. You did nothing wrong. You are the best boy in the whole world…” I realized for the first time how thin his shoulders felt. I tried to hug him back, patting his back gently. Again, and again. “Dad still smells the best…” I murmured before I drifted off. When I opened my eyes again, Dad was asleep in the chair next to my hospital bed. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. My head felt fuzzy, but I managed to sit up. That’s when I saw her, far down the hallway. My mom. 6 She was supporting Mr. Davies with her arm. They rushed right past our room. The breeze they created lifted the edge of the medical tape on my IV. She didn’t look at me. Not even a glance. Her eyes, her entire being, were focused on the man leaning on her, a slight frown on his face. “Doctor! Now! I want a full workup, the best you have!” Her voice echoed through the hall, strained with panic. “He was assaulted by an ill-mannered child! I’m worried about internal injuries!” Mr. Davies leaned weakly against her, but his voice was smug. “Nicole, I told you, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.” Nurses immediately swarmed them. Their murmurs buzzed around me like flies. “Oh my god, isn’t that Nicole Shaw? The CEO of Nexus Innovations? She’s so devoted to her boyfriend! Where do you find a love like that?” “I know, right? Bringing him in herself late at night, calling in the hospital’s top specialists. Look at the way she looks at him, you can see the heartbreak in her eyes.” Their words were like red-hot knives, stabbing into me and my dad. I turned to look at Dad. He was standing right behind me. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t even shaking. He just watched the dramatic display of affection at the end of the hall, his face completely blank. “Daddy…” I started crying again, struggling to breathe. “Did I make Mommy leave? Was I not a good boy…?” Suddenly, Dad smiled. It was a smile I had never seen before. He walked over and used the back of his cool hand to wipe away my tears, one by one. Then he held my face and made me look into his eyes. His voice was quiet, but each word was like a nail being hammered into my heart. He said, “Joey, listen to me.” “You did nothing wrong.” “It’s your mother… she isn’t good enough for us anymore.” “We don’t want her anymore.”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385922", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel