On the third day of my business trip, a new female parent suddenly joined my son’s parent chat group, which had been quiet for so long. I clicked on the voice message, and an unfamiliar, sweet female voice played. “Hello everyone, I’m the new language arts teacher at the school, and I’m also Dylan’s mom. Looking forward to getting to know you all~” My whole body stiffened. I clicked into the group members list and compared them repeatedly. My son’s name is Dylan. She says she’s Dylan’s mom. Then who am I? I immediately called my husband. “Did someone get added to Dylan’s parent group by mistake?” On the other end of the line, his voice paused for a moment, then he laughed casually as if nothing was wrong. “Oh, probably just a mix-up. There are so many kids at the school, it’s normal to have duplicate names. Did something happen?” I said with a smile that it was nothing, then hung up. That same night, I caught the first flight back and headed straight to my son’s school. The plane landed and I took a cab directly to my son’s elementary school. He’s seven years old this year, in first grade. It was 1 PM—the first class had just started. The security guard was very responsible. As soon as he learned I was a student’s parent, he called the homeroom teacher. A few minutes later, a girl wearing a white shirt and black skirt, looking like she’d just graduated, came running out quickly. Her looks were average, barely pretty enough to be called delicate, but she spoke very gently, in a soft voice. A woman’s intuition told me she was the person I was looking for. Sure enough, the moment she saw me, she panicked. Her face turned frighteningly pale, and her hands and feet trembled uncontrollably, as if she’d seen some terrible beast. “Th-this parent, is there something—something you need at the school?” She was so scared she could barely speak clearly. Yet she had the audacity to announce in my son’s parent group that she was his mother. “I saw the group message.” Right in front of the security guard, I laid it out directly. “You said you’re Dylan’s mom? I’m very curious about that.” The girl’s hands, hanging at her knees, clenched instantly. Then, with a panicked expression, she glanced at the security guard and forced out a smile to explain. “Oh, that… it’s because the school is about to have a parent-teacher conference, and Dylan’s dad said he and his wife are both very busy and don’t have time.” “To keep Dylan from being sad, he specially asked me to pretend.” “If this has caused you any trouble, I’m very sorry!” What a perfect explanation. Not only did it clear her of any relationship, but it also took a swipe at me—the one busy on a business trip and not at home. If I hadn’t carefully studied her social media, I might have actually believed her. Wednesday night at 8 PM, the Grand Theater. She posted a photo of a man’s back buying roses. Caption: [The man I love isn’t a prince—he’s a king.] The next day, I ended up in the hospital because of a pollen allergy. Friday afternoon at 6 PM, heavy rain in the city. She posted a selfie of herself sheltering under the school eaves. Caption: [When will my king come pick me up and take me home?] Three minutes later, Marcus sent me a message. “Honey, I have to work late tonight. I can’t pick up our son. Sorry to trouble you.” I was getting an IV drip at the hospital when I received the message, drowsy from the medication. By the time I saw the message, two hours had passed. No one picked up my son. He stood in the cold wind at the security booth for two full hours. That night, he spiked a fever of 102 degrees. On the way to the hospital, Marcus kept sighing. Every word blamed me for not checking my phone. I really thought I wasn’t a good mother. Touching my son’s flushed face, I said “I’m sorry” all night long. But it turned out the one who should apologize wasn’t me. My hand gripping my purse turned white from the pressure. My gaze slowly swept over the girl’s guilty, flustered face. It landed on the glaring blue on her earlobe, and I smiled knowingly. “Miss Rain’s earrings are beautiful. Did your boyfriend give them to you? They must have been expensive, right?” Last week on Valentine’s Day, I personally discovered Marcus’s shopping records. A pure gold bracelet and a pair of sapphire earrings. The bracelet cost five thousand dollars—worn on my wrist. The earrings cost thirty-eight thousand—given by him to the woman standing in front of me. When Rain heard my words, her face went pale instantly. Her lips trembled for a long time, but she couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Worthless. That word suddenly popped into my mind. Without looking at her again, I turned and left. On the way home, I called my father. He was Marcus’s direct superior, the man in control of the White Group. “Dad, I need a favor.” I changed my phone wallpaper from our family photo to one of just me and my son, my voice unnaturally calm. “The marketing director position we promised Marcus—cancel it. And find me the best divorce lawyer. I’m divorcing Marcus.” “Yes, he cheated on me with my son’s language arts teacher.”
My father moved quickly. In less than half an hour, the divorce lawyer added me and sent over 3GB of evidence and materials. I clicked through. Besides the social media posts of Rain’s that I could see, there was also a video account I’d never seen before. Eighty-three posts, every single one featuring Marcus’s shadow. I learned that last Christmas, when Marcus claimed he was working overtime and didn’t come home, he actually flew to Rain’s side to draw little stars with her in the snow. I learned that on my son’s seventh birthday, the gift Marcus gave him was picked out together with Rain. A teddy bear. In the video, Rain stuffed intimate photos of her and Marcus into the bear’s belly while laughing triumphantly. “A surprise for Marcus’s precious son.” “I can’t wait for the day it’s discovered.” Random viewers in the comments didn’t understand. [Is the host’s boyfriend from a divorced family?] Rain, using a kitten avatar, responded: [Yes, but I’ll soon replace his mom’s position.] Accompanied by a row of shy emojis. And the most recent one, uploaded the day I left on my business trip. The background was the storage room of our house. Rain leaned against the door with a selfie stick, smiling innocently at the camera. “Marcus’s kid is so naughty. I’m going to lock him in the dark room as punishment.” The background audio was my seven-year-old son Dylan’s terrified, pleading cries. My hand gripping the mouse suddenly tightened. I stood up with a jolt, remembering the night I landed in another province. I called home more than a dozen times. It wasn’t until the seventeenth call that someone finally answered. “Why did it take so long to answer? Where’s Dylan?” I was very anxious, afraid something had happened at home. On the other end, Marcus’s breathing clearly grew heavier. After a long pause, he stammered an explanation. “Dylan—he had a nightmare. It took me forever to get him back to sleep. Whatever it is, let’s talk about it tomorrow.” At the time, I didn’t think much of it and let Marcus brush me off. Looking back now, all the signs were there… My heart felt like it had a huge hole ripped through it, cold wind whistling through. It wasn’t that I was sad about Marcus cheating. It was that I never imagined he would let someone else hurt our child. When our son was born, just because his jaundice levels were a bit high and he needed phototherapy, Marcus was so nervous he canceled all his work and stayed by his side twenty-four hours a day. The coldness in my heart grew heavier. I sat back down and continued browsing the evidence of Marcus’s affair. Suddenly, Rain’s video account updated. In the frame, she wore the same clothes from when we met. Tear stains lingered at the corners of her eyes, looking pitiful. “Marcus’s ex-wife came to cause trouble again. She even said I’m not fit to be Dylan’s mom. I’m so scared.” She sniffled, casually revealing her chat interface with Marcus. “But thankfully Marcus spoils me. He promised to attend tomorrow’s parent-teacher conference with me. I’m finally going to be a child’s mother. So nervous.” She didn’t tell Marcus I came back? Looking at Marcus’s blue profile picture in the video—unchanged since our son was born—I smiled softly. Fine. Since it’s a parent-teacher conference, it wouldn’t be strange for me, the real mother, to attend, would it?
The next day, the school parent-teacher conference. I dressed inconspicuously and blended into the crowd, taking a seat in the most secluded corner of my son’s classroom. As soon as I sat down, Marcus sent me a message. [Summer, how’s work going? When are you coming home?] He was testing me. [Just arrived at the venue. Can’t talk now, the meeting’s about to start.] I replied dismissively. The chat box showed “typing…” then came a little cat emoji indicating acknowledgment. Identical to Rain’s profile picture. Feeling a bit disgusted, I put away my phone without responding further. Rain, as the new homeroom teacher this semester, walked onto the stage. She had dressed up specially today. A simple beige dress, hair braided to the side, face painted with delicate makeup. Different from yesterday’s timid cowardice, she now carried a deliberately performed maternal air. The more I looked, the more nauseating it became. “Good evening, parents. Today our parent-teacher conference theme is ‘Harmonious Family.’ Family has always been the most important safe haven for children. As parents, we must care about our children’s mental health and create a happy, harmonious family environment…” On the stage, she spoke eloquently to the parents, even telling several small stories, reminding parents of the importance of being responsible to their families. Yet ironically, the person destroying my family was her. Even more absurd, after saying all this, she suddenly tapped the podium and looked at the parents below with a shy expression. “Actually, today I have one more announcement. My son, Dylan, is also in this class.” Rain turned her head and waved toward the door. “Marcus, Dylan, come in quickly.” The classroom erupted in commotion. Marcus walked into the classroom slowly, holding our son’s hand. He had styled his hair, wore a black suit, his hair carefully slicked back, and wore the expensive watch I gave him on his wrist. But our son—his clothes were wrinkled, his hair wet and plastered to his forehead, looking like he had a fever. My heart clenched painfully. I almost couldn’t control my urge to rush forward and snatch my son back. But reason told me now wasn’t the time. I needed to wait for Rain to personally admit her intimate relationship with Marcus, to let her reputation be destroyed. “Hello everyone, I’m Rain’s husband, Marcus.” He tugged at our dazed son, his lips carrying the gentle smile I knew so well, but the words he spoke made my whole body turn cold. “Dylan, say hello to Mommy.” My son shook his head, hiding behind him, saying softly: “She’s not my mom.” Some parents below also questioned it. “I remember Dylan’s mom is Summer White, right? I saw her before school started. What’s going on?” “Yeah, I remember too. What’s this about?” Rain’s face turned deathly pale instantly, looking at Marcus as if seeking help. Sure enough, after only two seconds of hesitation, he calmly stepped onto the stage, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Everyone’s misunderstood.” “Summer White is not my son’s mother. She’s just…” He paused, his gaze falling tenderly on Rain. “She’s just the nanny I hired for my son. Miss Rain is my son’s real mother.” Nanny? I froze, the emotions in my eyes crystallizing into ice. Marcus and I had been together since college, weathering ten years of storms. When his startup failed and he fell into massive debt, I fell out with my father for his sake. When his frequent business dinners gave him stomach problems, I woke up at 5 AM every day to make him soup. When he said he loved children, on the operating table, I even considered saving the baby over myself. Now, in front of my son, in front of all his classmates’ parents, he said I was just a nanny. The coldness in my heart reversed to the extreme, transforming into a raging fire. The parents in the classroom seemed convinced, suddenly understanding. “So that’s it. Then Summer White is way out of line. Just a nanny, yet she lets the child call her mom.” Someone even advised Rain. “Miss Rain, you’re too soft. You must be more careful. Can’t let the nanny get too bold. If she leads the child astray, that’ll be a big problem.” “Exactly. These nannies are the worst.” Rain was overjoyed, smiling gently and virtuously. “Yes, yes, you’re right.” “I’ll be careful.” My son, eyes red, objected: “No, you’re wrong. She’s not my mom. My mom’s name is Summer White.” A parent clicked their tongue, showing disdain. “See? Already led astray, right? Can’t even recognize his own mother. When he grows up, he’ll be an ungrateful child. Miss Rain, you and Mr. Marcus really need to educate this child properly.” “Exactly. My daughter would never dare act like this. Miss Rain spoils the child too much.” “If you ask me, give him a timeout right now and discipline him. Once he’s calmed down, he’ll behave.” “That’s too strict, isn’t it? I say ground him in his room. When he learns to call her properly, then let him out.” The parents chimed in one after another, offering their suggestions. Rain’s eyes couldn’t hide her delight, though on the surface she still pretended to be reluctant, looking hesitantly at Marcus. “Marcus, what they’re saying makes sense. Maybe we should…” “Wait!” I stood up, pulled off my disguise mask, took out my phone that had been recording video the whole time, and spoke decisively. “Marcus, in front of everyone, I’ll ask you one more time. If Rain is Dylan’s mom, then who am I?” The smiles on Marcus and Rain’s faces froze.
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