Chapter 2

After that, I hung up.

My fingers were still wrapped around the phone, my knuckles a little white.

I stood in the kitchen. Outside the window, the sky had already gone dark. There was still a half-cut pile of vegetables on the stove, the knife resting on the cutting board, and a bag of green peppers torn open beside it.

I looked down at those green peppers and stared for a long time.

My phone buzzed again. I thought it was my mom calling back, but when I looked down, it was a WeChat message from my wife: “Working overtime. I’ll be back late. You eat first.”

I replied with a simple okay.

Then I set the phone face down on the counter and kept cutting the vegetables.

At 6:30, the doorbell rang.

I was sitting at the dining table with two sets of bowls and chopsticks in front of me. The food had already gone cold.

Wendy changed her shoes and came in. When she saw me, she froze for a second. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Waiting for you.”

She walked over and sat across from me, but she didn’t pick up her chopsticks. Instead, she looked at me with a complicated expression. “Kevin, your mom called me.”

My hand, holding the bowl, paused for a moment, then slowly lowered it.

“What did she say?”

“She said your dad needs surgery and asked me to transfer 50,000 yuan.”

Wendy looked at me.

“I told her all the money at home is under your control, so I can’t make that decision. I told her to talk to you directly.”

I stared at her and suddenly felt a little angry.

“Why would she call you? When we got married, they wanted that 180,000 yuan dowry, and we agreed that no matter what happened after that, they wouldn’t come looking for us. Now look at this—they turn around and call you instead?”

Wendy didn’t say anything. She reached over and covered the back of my hand with hers.

Her hand was warm, a sharp contrast to my cold fingers.

“Don’t be mad,” she said softly. “I know you don’t want to give it. Then don’t give it. I already told them on the phone that the money is under your control, and I’m not getting involved.”

I looked at her, and that anger in me slowly drained away, turning into an unspeakable kind of grievance.

“Wendy,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. “It’s not that I’m fixated on the 50,000. I just...”

“I know.” She cut me off. “I know.”

When we were dating, the first time I took her back to my hometown, my mom didn’t even cook a meal. She told me to take Wendy out to eat.

When we were leaving, my mom held Wendy’s hand and kept talking around the edges about how “our family doesn’t have much, and Kevin’s younger sister is still small. We’ll have to rely on you two to help out later.”

I was standing there, wishing I could find a crack in the floor to crawl into.

When we got married, they asked for 180,000 yuan as the dowry, saying they’d keep that money for old age and wouldn’t drag us down later.

I knew that money would definitely end up going to my sister, but I didn’t say anything.

Fine, give it to her. I’ll treat it as repayment for raising me.

When we bought the house, I was short 80,000 yuan for the down payment. I borrowed from every friend I had and still never asked them for help.

Back then I worked overtime until late every night, and Wendy kept me company without a single complaint.

She knew I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

For that half a year when I maxed out my credit cards, I gritted my teeth and paid off the debt, living day by day, counting the days.

Then I suddenly said, “I’m sorry.”

She blinked. “Sorry for what?”

“For making you go through all this with me.”