Chapter 5

That winter was the hardest time for my dad and me.

Dad was fired from the school.

Somehow, those fake photos got to the school administration.

The woman in the pictures looked about the same age as his students.

Even though it wasn't the same person, the parents raised a fuss, and the school couldn't cover it up.

I never had proof of who sent the photos, but I had my suspicions.

No job, no house, no savings.

Dad moved me into a cheap apartment, less than ten square meters.

The walls were covered in mold, the windows leaked air, and in winter, it was so cold you could see your breath.

Dad worked as a mover in a warehouse during the day and washed dishes at a restaurant at night.

Fifteen, sixteen hours a day, he got so thin his cheeks became hollow.

My hand was still bandaged.

Every day after school, I'd go to the supermarket to help people carry groceries.

Two dollars a trip.

At first, we could afford bread.

Later, we couldn't even afford to buy much of that.

Every meal, Dad would put all the good food in my bowl.

He'd say he wasn't hungry.

But I'd hear him get up in the middle of the night to drink cold water several times.

One day, I came home from school and smelled meat cooking.

I opened the door and saw a table full of dishes on the coffee table.

Next to it, a small cake with a crooked candle.

"It's your birthday today," Dad smiled, stroking my head. "Eat your cake, then do your homework."

I looked at the dishes, then at his increasingly hollow face.

"Dad, how much did you eat?"

He said he'd eaten.

But in the trash can, there was only an empty instant noodle packet.

I didn't eat the cake.

I stared at the flame for a long time.

Then I cried.

Late that night, I saw Dad sitting on the steps outside our rented room.

Under the streetlight, he was flipping through his phone gallery.

All of them were old photos of Mom.

Not a single one deleted.

I crouched beside him.

"Dad, don't look anymore."

He turned off his phone and pulled me into a hug.

"Autumn, I'm sorry. Your dad isn't capable."

I buried my face in his chest.

"You are capable, you're the best dad in the world."

A few days later, I scrolled past a news headline.

Eleanor Vance and Caleb Blackwood attending a charity gala.

She in a white haute couture gown, he in a custom-made suit.

Holding hands on the red carpet.

The headline read: "Vance Corp. CEO and Her Beloved Find True Love, Long-Term Commitment to Philanthropy."

The comments were full of praise.

Saying she was loving and righteous.

Saying she started from scratch and found true love.

Someone asked her if she'd like to talk about her ex-husband and daughter.

She looked at the camera, her eyes slightly red.

"That's my biggest regret in life. If someday they're willing to come back, my door will always be open for them."

I almost crushed my phone.

"Her door will always be open?" I turned to Dad.

"Then I'll go try."

The next morning, I helped Dad to Mom's new house.

A seaside villa, with three luxury cars parked out front.

Security guards stopped us at the iron gate.

"Who are you looking for? This isn't a place for you."

Dad, his eyes red, said, "I'm Eleanor Vance's ex-husband. I need to see her."

The intercom buzzed.

Five minutes later, Mom appeared at the door.

Silk pajamas, hair disheveled.

"Michael Dawson, what are you doing here?"

Dad gritted his teeth. "Eleanor, I'm not here to reconcile. Autumn's hand needs a follow-up, and I'm injured too... Can we borrow some money?"