My wife was reported for embezzling company funds, and I took the fall, serving time in prison for her. She promised she’d wait for me in our home, but she never visited, not once. I figured she was busy and didn’t think much of it. Until the day I was released. I found my wife, Serena, leaning into a man’s embrace, gazing happily at two little kids, a boy and a girl, playing in the yard. No wonder she didn’t have time to see me. She was too busy living her happily ever after. I’d sacrificed four and a half years in prison, thinking I was a martyr, but they hadn’t cared at all. The little boy caught my eye, still crouched behind the iron fence. He turned, screaming with excitement: “Mom, Dad, look! A beggar’s here for food!” The man’s gaze fell on me, and a chilling cold spread through my chest. Wasn’t that Vincent Blackwood, the man who’d reported my wife all those years ago? … Vincent Blackwood pulled the two children behind him, his eyes wary. “Go on, sweethearts, play with Mom.” The two kids bounced around Serena. She just looked at me, her brow furrowed. Vincent reached out as if to pat my shoulder, hesitated for a few seconds when he saw my ragged clothes, but completed the standard guy-to-guy greeting anyway. “Next time you visit us, remember to call ahead and make an appointment. You… nearly scared the kids.” “I don’t recall you being due out so soon.” Vincent pulled out a cigarette and offered it to me. I didn’t take it. “Good behavior, got some time off,” I repeated his words in my head, the taste bitter. “The property deed for this house is still in my name, you know.” My life’s work, all those years of struggle, now just a freebie for Vincent because he started a family with *her*. Vincent fell silent. He lit the cigarette himself and took a drag. Serena Miller approached, and his free hand naturally rested on her shoulder. Serena’s eyes swept over me, making me uncomfortable. She let out a soft sigh, those expressive eyes looking at me. “You’ve lost weight.” As if we were truly long-lost lovers, finally reunited. I desperately wanted to ask her if her words from back then still held true, if she’d thought of me at all during all these days. Vincent suddenly clapped his hands, the cigarette still dangling from his lips. “I almost forgot! My mind’s a mess, all thanks to your son.” “Honey, don’t eat that.” He picked up a dog bowl, still wet with dog drool, and haughtily tossed it at my feet. Then, with a sneer, he blew a puff of smoke directly into my face. “Liam, I’m not trying to insult you. Our dog’s monthly food bill is definitely more than what you got in prison. The food won’t be bad.” “I’m just curious, I heard people who’ve done time would eat anything, even rotten scraps, and find it delicious. I just want to see if that’s true.” I had arrived hungry, but in my rush to see Serena, I hadn’t eaten anything before coming. And it wasn’t as if I’d relish rotten scraps, as he suggested. I just hadn’t expected Serena to already have two children. She had forgotten me completely, forgotten my sacrifice. Vincent treated me like dirt, and Serena just offered a faint smile. Infuriated, I grabbed Vincent by his collar with one hand. “What are you showing off for? You framed my wife and stole my family, and I haven’t even settled that score with you yet!” Serena’s fingernails scraped my arm. She snapped, annoyed: “Liam Anderson, Vincent was just joking with you. Why are you overreacting like this?” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and let go. The moment I released him, Serena quickly took Vincent’s arm, meticulously smoothing out his collar. “Serena Miller, aren’t you going to give me an explanation? He and those twins…” Serena raised her hand to check the time, her voice cold and distant. “We can talk about this minor issue later. It’s almost time for Leo and Mia to go on the swings.” They treated me as if I were invisible, walking away hand in hand. My anger felt like shouting into a void; no one cared. Serena pulled a hundred-dollar bill from behind her phone and tucked it into my hand. “You’ve worked hard for over four years. Go buy yourself something nice.” I stood there, stunned, clutching the hundred-dollar bill. Keeping cash behind my phone was a habit I’d had for years. That was from a trip with Serena long ago. She’d fainted from heatstroke, my phone had died, and I had no cash. I’d asked countless passersby before finally borrowing money from a girl who’d had a previous spat with Serena. The condition was five bucks for every slap to my face. Since then, to be prepared for any emergency, every morning before leaving, I’d check both our phones to make sure there was cash behind them. Serena’s actions still carried a shadow of my influence, but she no longer loved me. Only this house, where we’d lived for so many years, told me. Those loving memories, they were real. I suppressed the bitterness in my heart, felt under the rug, and found the key, ready to enter the house and change into some slippers. Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, suddenly shouted, accusing me loudly. “Mr. Anderson, what are you doing? Your muddy footprints are all over the tiles! Can’t you think about how hard we work to keep this place clean?” Mrs. Jenkins was a housekeeper I’d hired years ago, back when I was just starting out. She had been incredibly grateful to me at first. I hadn’t expected that in four and a half years in prison, Serena wouldn’t be the only one to change. Ignoring Mrs. Jenkins, I reached for a pair of slippers. Mrs. Jenkins shrieked again, “Mr. Anderson, you still don’t know the rules! These slippers are for guests!” I was about to explode, but Mrs. Jenkins rushed back, bringing me a pair of my old shoes and two red plastic bags to use as shoe covers. She patted my back like an elder. “Mr. Anderson, don’t be mad at me. I have to follow the orders of whoever pays me, right?” “Your things? Mrs. Miller already had me put them all in the storage room. Hurry up and take that pile of junk and move out.” I shook my head and went to the storage room. Expensive watches and custom suits were haphazardly piled on the floor. But on the top shelf of a spotless glass cabinet sat a single shoe box. I quickly and carefully took it down, only to find a pair of canvas shoes cut into shreds, with several burn holes on the upper and traces of cigarette ash. When I carried the shoe box out, the cozy family of four had returned. Seeing my grim face, Serena stepped forward and touched my forehead. “No fever. Why do you look so pale? I’ll have Mrs. Jenkins make you some chicken soup later to perk you up.” “I just discussed it with Vincent. Since we’ve known each other for so many years, you can continue to stay in our house. We won’t kick you out to wander the streets.” I took a few steps back to avoid her touch and opened the shoe box. “Who ruined my shoes?” Serena glanced at them. “Oh, the pair your mom sewed for you, right?” I nodded. Serena pointed at me, letting out a clear laugh. “Vincent, look, a twenty-dollar pair of old-fashioned sneakers, and he treats it like a treasure.” “Who could stand such a mama’s boy? He wore those worn-out shoes every single day, and if it rained, he put them in a safe. Why didn’t he just spend his whole life with his mom?” The little boy, who had been hiding behind Vincent earlier, bravely stepped forward, raising his hand high. “I ruined them! Don’t blame my mom.” He seemed proud of himself. Serena gently ruffled his hair. “If you ruin someone’s things, you have to pay for them. Go buy him a new pair.” Then, she said to me, seemingly helpless: “Liam Anderson, don’t fuss over a kid. He’ll pay you for a new pair, just let it go.” The chubby boy ran over with an alligator-skin wallet, pulled out a handful of coins, and scattered them all over me. He grinned, his smile strikingly similar to Vincent Blackwood’s. Serena praised the boy for being sensible, but then she saw me again, and her brow furrowed. “This is over. Kids are always mischievous. Giving you twenty bucks for those old-fashioned shoes is already generous of him.” Vincent extended a cigarette butt, making a cryptic gesture. The shoes had been placed so high, a child of a meter tall couldn’t have reached them. Besides, there was cigarette ash on them. Serena followed my gaze, playfully punching Vincent’s arm. But when she turned back to me, her face was cold as ice. “You’re not still suspecting Vincent, are you? Even if he knew those old shoes were your family heirloom, Vincent wouldn’t bother with your trash. Can’t your mom just make you another pair?” She couldn’t make another pair. This was the last pair of shoes my mom ever sewed for me. In all those years I suffered in prison, my mom only visited once. She even specifically told me to be good to Serena when I got out. But was it my fault that I couldn’t have a good life with Serena? For five years, I yearned for her. She was laughing in another man’s arms. Serena ignored me, picking up the children. “My darlings must be hungry. Let’s go eat. Hubby, you too, hurry up.” Vincent casually glanced at me. “Honey, it’s been so many years, and the kids and I don’t like Spicy Tripe Stew. I’ve never even seen you touch your fork to it, so why do you still insist Mrs. Jenkins makes it?” Spicy Tripe Stew was my favorite dish. Before, Serena had disliked it, calling it a strange, unpresentable dish. Only on holidays would she allow Mrs. Jenkins to make it for me. Serena froze, her back to me, not answering Vincent. “Liam Anderson, stay and eat. I don’t want the neighbors seeing our guest leave looking upset, thinking we’re bad hosts.” The phrase “our home” had stabbed at me countless times today. Vincent gritted his teeth, then put his arm around my shoulder, acting friendly. “Liam, tonight, we drink until we drop.” A few years ago, he’d solemnly told me he would pursue justice and the law to the very end. His face hadn’t looked like this then. At the most prominent spot on the table, a steaming bowl of Spicy Tripe Stew sat. Seeing me staring at the dish, Serena picked up the bowl and dumped it into the trash can. She didn’t look at me, but smiled sweetly at Vincent. “I can’t believe I used to put such a disgusting dish on the table.” “Only someone with a psychological defect would enjoy a dish like that.” More than her sarcasm, I thought of our marriage, just an empty piece of paper. She must have regretted it long ago, right? I wasn’t incapable of accepting Serena falling in love with someone else, having children with another man, but why didn’t she tell me sooner? Even a message through someone else would have been enough. My place setting was still on the table, but I knew that in this home, which I had fought so hard for, there was no longer a place for me. Serena and Vincent, with their two children, harmoniously enjoyed dinner, while I was isolated outside. I directly asked the question that had been haunting me. “Was what happened five years ago a joint effort between you two?” Serena pressed her lips together and handed the two children to Mrs. Jenkins. Vincent stared at my face and laughed. “Liam, you’re too full of yourself. If I wanted to go against you, it wouldn’t have been just four and a half years. Besides, look in the mirror, see that receding hairline? If I played dirty with you, my subordinates would laugh me to death.” Serena laughed too, glancing at the top of my head with a look of disdain. “What’s past is past. Liam Anderson, you’re just not generous enough. After all these years in the industry, you’re still just an upstart.” Could four and a half years of repetitive prison life just be brushed off with “what’s past is past”? My buzz cut, it was a mark left by them both, yet they laughed so happily. Serena suddenly turned serious, glaring at Vincent. “That’s enough laughing, it’s getting excessive. Show Liam Anderson some respect. I think a buzz cut isn’t bad at all.” She picked up a chicken drumstick and placed it on the plate in front of me. I wiped the fork, which had the little boy’s drool on it, and gently turned over the chicken skin, seeing specks of white maggots lying on the drumstick. It felt like the entire universe was telling me to leave, to stop being moved by little things. Finally, I made up my mind. “Serena Miller, let’s get a divorce.” Serena’s lips turned pale. “Are you sure? Once we divorce, there’s no turning back.” I nodded. “This house has the traces of your partner and children living in it. I don’t want it. Sell it to me at market price.”
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