Emily’s last wish before she passed away was to see Olivia come back to visit her. I made countless phone calls, begging her earnestly for a long time. She was very impatient, “Stop calling, I’m busy.” I personally carved Emily’s tombstone, sending her off on her final journey. But that night, high-resolution photos of her night out with her secretary spread online. I completely lost it. On Emily’s birthday, the little girl lay in her hospital bed. Weak and powerless, relying on a ventilator to stay alive. I looked in through the observation window, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. Emily’s expression was pained, but her gaze was fixed on the spot next to me. Countless phone calls went unanswered. The last one finally connected. I hurriedly urged, afraid she would hang up the next second, “Honey, come to the hospital quickly, Emily…” The woman’s tone was impatient and dismissive: “I’m busy.” “Beep… beep… beep…” The surroundings fell into a deathly silence. The little girl on the bed suddenly started breathing rapidly, her body shaking violently. A group of doctors rushed into the room, nurses coming and going. Then, they left with tense expressions. I mustered up my strength to lean over the bed, calling softly: “Emily baby, Daddy’s here.” The little girl’s mouth opened and closed, her eyes full of hope: “Where’s Mommy?” My heart felt like it was being stabbed over and over again, the pain unbearable. I forced a smile, gently stroking her head, explaining: “Mommy’s on her way.” I pointed to the cake on the cabinet, “Look, this is the mango cake Mommy specially told me to buy. She remembered she promised to come celebrate your birthday with you, but she’s stuck in traffic.” As I comforted her, I sent messages to Olivia. “Olivia, Emily’s not going to make it.” “I’m begging you, come to the hospital to see her one last time. She’s your daughter.” “I’ll do anything if you come, even die.” After a barrage of messages, she finally replied, “Mr. Lucas, Mrs. Song is busy. Please stop bothering her.” … In the last moments of her life, Emily never got to see Olivia. But she believed what I told her. After all, Olivia used to spoil Emily rotten. Whatever Emily wanted, Olivia would buy without hesitation. No matter how busy work was, she would always make time to pick Emily up. For every holiday, big or small, she would prepare at least half a year in advance. She never missed any of Emily’s surgeries, big or small.
Late at night, I lay powerlessly by my daughter’s bedside, her breath now stilled. My eyes were red and swollen, tears long since dried up. My phone suddenly vibrated with a message from Jack. It was a news article, with two high-resolution photos attached. The headline blared: “Song Corp CEO’s Night Out with Handsome Man” In the photo, a woman in a tight dress clung coyly to a man’s arm, looking flirtatious. The man had handsome features, a faint smile playing on his thin lips as he gazed lovingly at the woman. Quite the picture of a loving couple. The second photo showed Olivia wrapped in a towel, smoking on a balcony. Red marks were clearly visible on her body, her gaze directed vaguely out the window. “Brother Lucas, Mrs. Song loves me. It’s time for you to step aside as her husband.” My hand trembled uncontrollably, my nails digging into my flesh as hatred surged in my eyes. How could they? How dare they! Do this to me. Jack was a college student I had sponsored. Back then, I had accidentally learned from a middle school teacher that Jack’s family couldn’t afford to send him to school, and wanted him to drop out to work and earn money for his brother’s wedding expenses. The teacher told me Jack was hardworking and promising. When I first met Jack, he wore ill-fitting old clothes, his hands clutching nervously at the hem. I felt like I was looking at my younger self. I offered to sponsor Jack’s high school tuition and living expenses for three years. After he graduated college, I even recommended him as a secretary against Olivia’s objections. I still remember his grateful eyes at the time, promising me, “Brother, just wait. I’ll definitely repay you in the future.” Later, I did indeed receive his “repayment.” Time and time again, he tirelessly proved to me the illicit affair between my wife and him. Ambitious to replace me in taking care of my wife.
I chose a fine headstone and, dusting off skills long unused, carved Emily’s tombstone myself. “Emily, beloved daughter. Radiant as the heart, forever in our hearts.” I personally laid Emily to rest. Next to her grave lay my grandmother, who had once been my only family. Yet I had never visited her since she passed away. The little old lady had doted on me since I was young. After my grandfather died, our family’s circumstances were poor and we couldn’t afford tuition. When I graduated middle school, someone advised Grandma to have me drop out to ease the family’s burden. She refused vehemently, “As long as Lucas wants to study, I’ll support him no matter how long it takes!” For three years of high school, she supported me by selling vegetables, successfully sending me to a top university. I thought then that Grandma’s blessings were still to come. But later, the little old lady who had bent her back to raise me became nothing but a mound of earth. I pressed my cheek against Emily’s cold tombstone, thinking to myself, “Emily, you won’t be lonely with Great-grandma to keep you company.” “Walk slowly, wait for me.”
After returning from the cemetery, I numbly packed my suitcase. I sat silently in the dark living room, not saying a word. The huge house, now devoid of the little girl’s cheerful laughter, felt suffocatingly oppressive. My tears had long since dried up, unable to shed another drop, my eyes bloodshot. On the coffee table sat a family photo of the three of us, radiating happiness. But it wasn’t in the original frame. I met Olivia when I was ten years old. She was thirteen at the time. Her mother had an affair and ran off with all the family’s money. Her father moved next door to us with her. Although Olivia was pretty, she was always cold and quiet. The villagers gossiped, and soon the whole town knew. At school, Olivia was constantly mocked. Only I stubbornly followed behind her, protecting her. “Sister Olivia, I’ll stay by your side forever.” I wanted to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps and become a sculptor, but Grandma strongly opposed it. Only Olivia told me, “There’s no such thing as a lowly profession. I’ll stay by your side forever.” On my 18th birthday, Olivia gave me a set of carving tools she had made herself. Seeing the cuts on her hands, my eyes stung with tears. “Does it hurt?” Seeing my wet eyes, she became flustered, hurriedly explaining: “It doesn’t hurt at all.” But she hid her hands behind her back, grinning foolishly at me: “They’re almost healed, really.” When we were 22, we went from school uniforms to wedding dresses, getting married. Olivia wanted to start a game studio, but her father strongly opposed it, thinking it wasn’t proper for a girl. Only I stood up to support her, just as she had once supported me. When I was 25, our daughter Emily was born. Overcome with joy at becoming a father for the first time, I held the newborn Emily and cried out loud. No matter how busy she was, Olivia personally took care of everything for the child. She often had to work overtime, but she always made me feel secure. I once thought meeting Olivia was the luckiest thing to ever happen to me. More than once, she reminisced about the past with me, saying she hated cheating and despised her mother for hurting her father and destroying their family. Olivia once curled up in my arms, promising me that she would never become someone fickle like her mother.
Olivia came home in the middle of the night. Seeing me, she was startled, “Why aren’t you asleep so late?” I coldly raised my head, meeting her gaze: “Where were you the day before yesterday?” Her eyes darted away, unconsciously avoiding my gaze, “Last-minute business trip.” After a pause, her tone softened, “I’ll make it up to Emily for her birthday another day. I’ve never missed one before anyway.” Hearing this, my chest tightened, and in that instant, tears slid down my cheeks. I turned away, trying hard to hold back the tears. After a long while, “Olivia” I spoke, my voice hoarse and weak. “Let’s get divorced.” Olivia’s face froze, and she asked uncertainly: “What?” I looked straight into her eyes, enunciating each word slowly: “I said, Olivia, let’s get divorced.” Disbelief flashed in her eyes, her expression bewildered. Just for a moment, Olivia’s face hardened, darkening slightly: “Lucas, this divorce talk isn’t funny anymore.” “Fine, we can divorce, but I’ll only give you $200,000. Also, I get custody of Emily.” As expected of a businesswoman – the company was now worth millions, yet she only offered me $200,000 to get rid of me. How cruel. I used to admire her ruthlessness in business, but now it was being used against me. I laughed coldly: “Fine, sign the papers.” She could have custody of Emily if she wanted, the girl was dead anyway. Olivia thought she could still use the child to tie me down, but it wouldn’t work anymore. Signing didn’t take long. I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door. Olivia grabbed my wrist, her tone languid: “It’s too late today, leave tomorrow.” I immediately shook her off, my tone measured: “No need. I’ve already packed everything.” “Monday at 10 AM, I’ll be waiting for you at the Civil Affairs Bureau.” A sudden summer downpour invaded the night, the empty oil-paved road exuding a stifling heat, making me nauseous. I shakily returned to the apartment I had bought for Grandma. It took most of my energy to clean up the long-uninhabited place. The house was simple and sparse, with only one photo frame – a picture of the three generations together.
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