Our school play was next week. I leaned against the edge of the bed, whispering to Mom: “The teacher said everyone needs to wear white patent leather shoes on stage.” “Mom, can I get a pair too?” Mom looked down at her phone, but she still smiled at me. “Of course, sweetie. Mom will take you tomorrow.” The next day, we went to the department store. I fell in love with a pair of white Mary Janes with little bows on the straps. The saleslady said they were over two hundred dollars. Mom held the shoebox, her smile fading into a sudden, heavy silence. I quickly put the shoes back on the shelf and smiled at her, trying to make my voice sound bright. “Actually, Mom, my sneakers are fine.” “I’m standing in the very back row anyway. No one will even see my feet.” I knew why. To help Dad pay off his debts, Mom hadn’t bought herself anything new in years, not even a pair of shoes. I had even started collecting soda cans from the park to recycle for extra cents. Mom looked at me, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. Just then, a woman standing nearby spoke up. “How can a little girl go on stage without proper shoes?” She walked over, took the box from the shelf, and handed it straight to the cashier. “Here, sweetie. It’s a gift from me.” My eyes lit up, but I quickly sneaked a glance at Mom. Mom was standing frozen, all the color draining from her face. At the register, the woman smiled and slid a card across the counter. “Don’t worry about it. My husband makes money just so I can spend it.” “He won’t mind a little thing like this.” I stood on my tiptoes and saw the dark, matte finish of the black card. My heart sank. Only last night, I had seen that exact same card in Dad’s wallet. … Mom stood in front of the counter, unable to move. The woman’s smile grew warmer, glowing with an easy, untroubled happiness. “Once the baby in my belly is born, I’m going to dress her up like a princess too. I never want her to feel left out.” Mom’s breath seemed to catch in her throat. I froze too, my eyes dropping instinctively to the woman’s round stomach. When Mom finally spoke, her voice was raspy, barely a whisper. “You’re… pregnant?” The woman nodded, her eyes shining with unmistakable joy. “Just found out.” “I was just out doing some window shopping today. I can’t wait to tell my husband tonight. It’s going to be a surprise.” Right then, a voice called out from behind us. “What’s taking so long?” I turned around. A man was walking toward us, holding two iced drinks. I went entirely numb. It was Dad. But not the Dad I knew. The Dad who came home to us always wore worn-out, threadbare clothes. The man standing here looked like a movie star, polished and radiant. I stood there, my throat locking up. I didn’t even dare to call out to him. The woman ran over to him, wrapping her arm tightly around his. “Honey, you’re just in time! I just did a good deed.” She pointed at me, beaming. “I bought a pair of recital shoes for this sweet little girl. She’s so polite, she wouldn’t even ask for them.” Dad looked over in the direction she was pointing. The moment his eyes met mine and Mom’s, his smile vanished completely. Mom immediately grabbed my hand, turning us around to leave. But as we walked, her hand was shaking so hard. When we got home, Mom placed those white Mary Janes on the table. She just stared at them for hours. Over the last few years, Mom had sold her earrings, her necklaces, everything, just to help Dad pay off his debts. The front door didn’t open until very late. Dad walked in. He was still wearing his tailored suit, looking utterly out of place in our cramped, peeling apartment. He placed a large shopping bag on the table, calling my name as if nothing had happened. “Maisie, look. Dad bought you some presents.” I slowly stood up from the edge of the bed and looked inside the bag. They were toys and dresses I had wanted for a long time. But Dad had always said we couldn’t afford them. Mom let out a bitter, mocking laugh, her eyes locked on him. “Are you done lying to us?” Dad frowned, looking exhausted, as if he simply didn’t have the energy for a fight. “The kid is right here. Don’t start.” Mom laughed again, but tears were streaming down her face. “Oh, so now you care about the kid?” “She couldn’t even have a pair of shoes for her school play because I couldn’t afford them. Meanwhile, you have an entire other life out there. Another family.” Dad’s expression darkened. “Watch your mouth.” The apartment fell dead silent. I stood in the corner, barely daring to breathe. Mom’s voice was quiet, but it hurt worse than hearing her scream. “How could you do this to us? To your own daughter?” Dad glanced at me, his posture stiffening with a momentary flicker of guilt. But then, his phone buzzed. He looked down, checked the screen, and immediately turned toward the door. As the door clicked shut behind him, Mom stood with her back to me for a very long time. I crept over and gently tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Mom… was it because of the shoes? I shouldn’t have asked for them.” She spun around and pulled me into her arms, holding me so tight I could feel her chest heaving. “No.” “Maisie, you did nothing wrong.” She squeezed me, her voice trembling. “It’s Mom’s fault. I’m so sorry.” Listening to her, my own tears started to fall. I didn’t really understand why I was crying, only that Mom was completely broken, and it made my chest ache. The next day, Mom walked me to school in total silence. Standing in the line with my classmates, I looked down at my new white shoes. Instead of happy, I just felt a heavy, sour lump in my throat. Just as rehearsals were wrapping up, the teacher suddenly called me into the front office. As I stood by the door, I could hear the administration staff whispering outside. “That’s her, right?” “The girl from the photos.” “So her mother is a homewrecker after all.” My eyes stung with hot tears. I yelled back at them: “My mom is not a bad person!” Just as Mom rushed into the office and heard my shout, the water bottle she was holding slipped from her hand, crashing onto the tile floor. That was when I learned what had happened. The woman from the mall had somehow found her way into the school’s parent Facebook group. She had posted the photos she took at the mall, along with a long, tearful message. She claimed she had only bought a pair of shoes out of the kindness of her heart for a poor little girl, only for my mother to start hounding her husband. She wrote that she was pregnant, that the stress was dangerous for her baby, and begged the other parents for support. She wrote it so beautifully, painting herself as the innocent, charitable victim. A few parents had initially questioned if there was some misunderstanding, but she knew exactly how to play them. With a few soft, manipulative replies, she dragged Mom’s name through the mud. She didn’t use outright insults, but every word implied that Mom was a cheap, scheming woman, and that I was a child being raised by trash. Slowly, the comments in the group turned vicious. “Like mother, like daughter. I don’t want my kid around someone like that!” “Disgusting. People like her deserve what’s coming to them.” Sitting in that office, I heard the murmurs from the hallway growing louder. These were grown-ups, yet the words coming out of their mouths were meaner than anything I’d ever heard on the playground. The teacher called Mom, and then she called Dad. I heard her speaking urgently into the receiver: “The child is very distressed, and the parents outside are causing a scene. We need you to get here as soon as possible.” Deep down, I kept hoping Dad would walk through that door. If he came, he could tell everyone that he was my dad. He could tell them Mom wasn’t a bad person, and then all of this would go away. So I waited. But the first one to arrive was Mom. When she burst through the door, her hair was a mess, sweat beading on her forehead. The second she saw me, she fell to her knees and wrapped me in a tight hug. All the fear and hurt I’d been holding back poured out. I sobbed against her shoulder. “Mom, I didn’t hit anyone.” “They’re saying bad things about you.” “They said I’m…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Mom kept stroking my back, her hands frantic. “It’s okay, Maisie. Don’t be scared. Mom is here.” The teacher explained the situation, looking incredibly uncomfortable. She said the parents outside were too riled up, and suggested it might be best if I dropped out of the school play until things blew over. Mom’s arms tightened around me instantly. “Why?” “What did my daughter do wrong?” The teacher sighed. “Your daughter did nothing wrong. But the parents are crowding the hallway. If this escalates, it will only hurt her more.” Indeed, there was a crowd outside the office glass. I heard someone shout, “Make her come out and explain herself!” Another voice added, “People like that shouldn’t even be allowed to send their kids to this school.” Mom was shaking with pure rage. She pulled out her phone and dialed Dad’s number. She called again and again, until he finally picked up. Mom’s voice cracked. “You need to get to the school right now.” I didn’t know what he said on the other end, but the tiny flicker of hope in Mom’s eyes died out. “Maisie is being cornered and harassed at school. Just come. Just this once.” “If you don’t show up, they are going to brand her as a bastard child!” By the end, she was sobbing. But Dad still refused. Standing so close to her, I could hear his muffled voice through the speaker: “Handle it yourself. Stop calling me for every little thing.” Then, the line went dead. Mom stood there, clutching the phone, completely frozen. In that moment, I finally understood. Dad was never coming. Seeing that he wasn’t showing up, the crowd outside grew bolder, their words sharper. Someone pushed the office door open, pointing at my stage costume, telling us not to ruin the school’s property. Terrified, I hid behind Mom. She shielded me with her body, but the hateful words still pierced through, sharp as needles. “Who even knows if she has a father?” “Probably some random guy’s kid she’s trying to pin on someone else.” “Look at the mother. She looks like a home-wrecking siren. The apple doesn’t fall far.” My ears buzzed, and my vision blurred with endless tears. I wanted to scream at them that I had a dad. He just hadn’t arrived yet. But even I didn’t believe it anymore. Suddenly, someone grabbed my student file off the desk and opened it. The office dissolved into chaos. Everyone was crowding around, whispering, laughing, treating our lives like a cheap soap opera. I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed through my tears, “I have a dad!” Someone sneered. “Then where is he? Call him here.” In that split second, only one thought consumed my mind. “I have to find Dad.” “If I find him, he has to acknowledge me. He can’t pretend I don’t exist.” I shoved past the adults in front of me and bolted out the door. Mom screamed my name from behind, but I couldn’t stop. I ran as fast as my small legs could carry me, tears blinding my way. The school gates were just ahead. “Dad, please. Please just appear.” But in the next second, a deafening screech of brakes tore through the air. I spun around instinctively. A car was barreling toward me, moving so, so fast. Before I could even register the danger, I was airborne. For a brief moment, I felt as light as a piece of paper drifting in the wind. Then, the impact. The pavement was so hard. The pain was suffocating, crushing the air right out of my lungs. I heard people screaming. And then I heard Mom’s voice, a sound so broken it shattered the sky. “Maisie!” She threw herself over me, her hands trembling violently as she touched my face. I wanted to tell her how much it hurt. But when I opened my mouth, all I tasted was iron and blood. Mom’s face grew blurry, fading into the gray light. The last thing I saw was her collapsing beside me, weeping so hard she couldn’t even stand. By the time they lifted me into the ambulance, I had no strength left. The interior of the rig was blindingly bright. People were pressing down on my chest, shouting numbers, telling me to stay awake. But I was just so tired. Mom held my hand the entire time, gripping it so tightly, as if she believed that if she let go, I would slip away forever. She kept begging the paramedics. “Please save her.” “Please, I beg you, save my daughter.” I had never heard Mom sound like that. Even in our darkest times, she would always hold me and whisper, “It’s okay, baby. Mom will figure something out.” But this time, she had no solutions left. When we reached the hospital, they wheeled me into the trauma bay. The double doors swung shut, locking Mom outside. What happened next, I only learned later from the whispers of the living. Mom stood outside the operating room, and a nurse soon approached her with the intake and consent forms. They needed to run scans, prep for a blood transfusion, and start emergency surgery immediately. They needed a deposit. When Mom looked at the figure on the paper, her face went utterly pale. She dumped every single coin and crumpled bill from her purse, checked her banking app, and opened every loan app on her phone, one by one. But no matter how she scrambled, she was nowhere near enough. She messaged Dad: “Maisie was hit by a car. She’s in the hospital. Come now.” His call came through seconds later. Mom gripped the phone like a dying woman clutching a lifeline, her voice cracking. “Maisie’s hurt. The doctors are trying to save her. I need thirty thousand dollars right now for the surgery. Please, just thirty thousand.” But Dad didn’t believe her. He thought it was another ploy. He accused her of using our daughter to scam him for money. Mom wept into the receiver. “I’m not lying! She’s truly dying! Just come to the hospital and see for yourself, I beg you!” Still, he refused to believe her. He went so far as to say that if she really wanted the money, she needed to go and apologize to Natalie first. Because Natalie had been so distressed by the school drama that her stomach was cramping, and she wouldn’t stop crying. The line went quiet for a long time. But finally, Mom whispered, “Okay.” When she arrived at the private clinic, Natalie was lounging on a sofa, dabbing at her eyes, complaining that the day’s fright had nearly cost her the baby. Dad stood beside her, stroking her hair, whispering sweet things as if the child in her womb was the only one that mattered in the world. Mom stood there and said, “My daughter is in the operating room.” Her voice didn’t even sound like hers anymore. It was hollow, dry. But Dad only looked at her coldly. “Apologize first.” Natalie sniffled, her voice dripping with fake tears. “It’s all her fault. She caused a scene at the mall and at the school. She just won’t let go of another woman’s husband!” Mom didn’t defend herself. She just kept staring at Dad, waiting for some microscopic shred of humanity to show in his eyes. But there was nothing. “Apologize,” he repeated. “Then you get the money.” Mom stood there, looking like a ghost. She whispered one last time, “My daughter is dying.” Dad’s face remained cast in stone. “Apologize, and I’ll wire the funds.” So, Mom knelt. For me. She sank to her knees before that woman, lowering her head, and said she was sorry. But Natalie wasn’t satisfied. “Louder. Admit that you’re the shameless one here.” Mom’s forehead was bruised, her hair tangled, but she forced the words out, syllable by syllable. “I did nothing wrong. He is the one who sinned.” Dad stood by, watching the entire spectacle without making a single move to stop it. Then Natalie sneered, “Bow down. Show some real remorse.” Mom’s shoulders trembled as if she were about to collapse. But she lowered her upper body, pressing her forehead directly to the cold floor. Once. Twice. Three times. She did it with so much force that her forehead began to bleed. Only then did Dad toss a plastic card onto the floor in front of her. “This is the last time,” he said. Mom grabbed the card and ran. She ran back to the hospital, believing that if she could just run fast enough, I would still be waiting for her. But when she reached the billing counter, the clerk swiped the card several times, only to look up with a pitying sigh. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This card has been frozen.” Mom froze. She stood at the window, the useless card clutched in her hand, the blood on her forehead drying into a dark crust. Her face was completely devoid of life. And right then, the red light above the operating room went out. The doors swung open. A doctor wheeled out a small gurney, covered entirely by a white sheet. Mom looked as though she had been nailed to the floor. Her breath stopped. The card slipped from her fingers, clattering softly against the tile. But she didn’t look down at it. She just stared at the gurney, her eyes wide, as if she believed that if she didn’t blink, the doctor’s words wouldn’t be real. The doctor walked up to her, his voice heavy with quiet regret. “I am so sorry. We did everything we could.” Mom didn’t move. She didn’t seem to comprehend what those words meant. Floating above her head, I reached down, wanting to wrap my arms around her, to tell her not to be scared, that I was right here. But my hands passed straight through her shoulders. I couldn’t touch a thing. The nurse gently pulled back the sheet, revealing my face. Only then did Mom seem to wake up. She stumbled forward, her knees giving out. I lay there so still, my face pale, my lips white, looking like I was just taking a nap. Mom’s trembling fingers finally touched my hair. The next second, she collapsed to her knees. She didn’t cry. I had never seen Mom this quiet. She gently stroked my cheek, her lips quivering, her voice so soft it felt like glass ready to shatter. “Maisie.” “Mom is here.” “I brought the money, sweetie. Open your eyes and look at me, okay?” Hearing her, a phantom sob caught in my throat. I wanted so badly to leap into her arms like I used to, to tell her I was right there. But I couldn’t go back. Mom pulled my cold body into her arms, resting her forehead against my hand, whispering the same words over and over. “I’m sorry.” “Mom was useless.” “I couldn’t protect you.” I hovered above her, shaking my head. “No.” “That’s not true, Mom.” “You tried so hard.” She hadn’t bought herself a single new thing in years just so I could eat. She always told me she didn’t care about dressing up, but I knew she used to love pretty things. Whenever she made custard, she always gave me the softest, smoothest part in the middle. In the winter, even when her own hands were red and raw from the cold, she would always make sure my sleeves were pulled down tight to keep me warm. She had protected me so well. It was Dad who lied to her. It was those cruel people who hurt her. But she still took all the blame upon herself. Watching her, my heart felt like it was being torn to shreds. After a long time, the phone in Mom’s pocket began to ring. She didn’t answer it. The ringing went on and on. Only when the nurse gently nudged her did she seem to register the sound, slowly pulling the phone out. It was Dad. He probably thought she was calling to beg for more money. The moment the call connected, his voice was laced with deep irritation. “Have you seriously not had enough of this drama?” Mom held me close, saying nothing. Her eyes were empty, staring into nothingness. The doctor, unable to watch any longer, took the phone from her hand. “Sir, this is the municipal hospital. The emergency resuscitation has failed. The child has passed away. Please come to the hospital immediately to handle the arrangements.”
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