Chapter 1

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.