My best friend passed away when his wife Laura was eight months pregnant. Laura said she didn’t want her child to grow up without a father. To repay my friend’s life-saving grace, I became the child’s father. Laura loved her work, so I quit my job to become a full-time stay-at-home dad, caring for them for seven years straight. But she remained cold and distant. Only during sex at night would she occasionally show a trace of tenderness. Yet after each time, she would carefully check whether the condom had broken. One night, the condom accidentally broke. Laura flew into a rage and locked me out on the balcony as punishment, leaving me in the pouring rain. Her son came hurrying over with an umbrella. But he coldly walked right past me and handed the umbrella to the nanny who was heading out. In that moment, I decided to leave. Fighting through the weakness of a high fever, I handed her the divorce papers. She frowned in displeasure and asked, “Is this just because of what happened last night?” “Mark, if you hadn’t crossed the line, I wouldn’t have punished you. You should look for the cause in yourself.” I suppressed the urge to defend myself, my voice hoarse as I said, “Just sign it.” “What about our son?” “He was never my biological child anyway. Of course I won’t fight for custody.” “And you don’t need to split any assets with me either. Consider that portion my child support for him.” Laura looked up in surprise. No wonder—after all, I normally cared most about this child. She threatened me with a stern face, “I advise you to quit while you’re ahead. If you keep this up, there’ll be no turning back.” Apparently she was convinced my divorce request was just a tantrum. But what she didn’t know was that from the moment I decided on divorce, I never planned to turn back. I didn’t bother explaining further. Taking the signed divorce agreement, I returned to my room. Seeing me pack my luggage, Laura said, “Mark, the paperwork will still take some time. You don’t need to rush to move out.” I calmly threw her own words back at her. “No thanks. When doing things, it’s better to make a clean break.” She said nothing more. I had a lot of belongings, but I only took the essentials. As I came out dragging my suitcase, John was in the living room reading a science magazine. So disciplined at such a young age, just like his mother. And just like his mother, utterly cold toward me. He put down his book, walked up to me with an impatient expression: “Are you really divorcing Mom?” I nodded. Though his face was expressionless, I still caught the joy flickering in his eyes. Then he spoke to me in a tone of granting a favor: “From now on, I’ll allow you to visit me, but only once a month. More than that might make Ivan unhappy.” He was talking about Laura’s first love, Ivan. If Ivan hadn’t had that incident that forced his whole family to immigrate, Laura probably never would have married my brother. Recently Ivan returned to the country, and the two reconnected. She often took John to see Ivan too. Ivan was a race car driver. John thought he was cool and impressive. But he didn’t know I had won multiple consecutive CRC and CTCC annual driver championships. He hated me so much he wouldn’t even give me a chance to take him to race cars. Before, I would feel hurt and sad that he liked Ivan but not me. But now my heart was still as water. Last night’s incident had completely opened my eyes. You can’t domesticate an ungrateful wolf. I didn’t even give him a glance, just opened the door and left. As I neared the main gate, Laura came out. “Why the rush? You haven’t even found a place to stay yet.” I said nothing, opening the front door. “Where are you planning to go? I’ll have the driver take you.” “No need.” After being drenched in last night’s rainstorm all night, my whole body was burning hot now, my head splitting with pain. Dragging a body that could collapse at any moment, I used my last bit of strength to walk out the door. But I’d barely taken a few steps outside before my vision went black and I collapsed.
I woke up again in a hospital. A passing lady had brought me in. The doctor said my condition was very serious and asked why I had no family with me. “Sorry doctor, I have no family.” The doctor’s eyes immediately filled with sympathy. I smiled bitterly. A complete stranger could show me kindness, yet the mother and son I’d poured my heart out for seven years could be so cruel. For the first time, I felt these years truly weren’t worth it. After several IV drips and the fever subsiding, I left the hospital. I really wanted to take a spontaneous trip and clear my head. But life isn’t a TV drama. I hadn’t worked all these years, and Laura only gave me a little grocery money. I hadn’t saved much at all. I temporarily stayed at a hotel. The next day, I called my old boss at the TV station. Before marriage, I was the most popular host on the station’s weather program. When I decided to resign, many managers thought it was a shame. But I was single-mindedly devoted to Laura and gave up my own future. Back then, young and impetuous, I truly believed sincerity could be met with sincerity. What a pitiful ending I got instead. Seven years away from the camera—I honestly hadn’t held much hope. Unexpectedly, my boss didn’t hesitate and directly arranged for me to meet the station director. Though I’d been busy caring for them mother and son all these years, I still made time to work out, keeping myself in good shape. Combined with my previously outstanding professional abilities, after discussion the leadership decided to give me another chance. I took my luggage and moved into the apartment the director prepared for me, starting a new life. After a week of familiarizing myself with operations, I smoothly returned to work. My first day back on set broke the highest viewership record of the seven years since I’d left. The director was especially pleased and held a celebration banquet. When juniors toasted me, I instinctively refused: “Sorry, I don’t drink.” Only after speaking did I remember I wasn’t a non-drinker—I’d quit because Laura once said she didn’t like me drinking. Now divorced, whether she liked it or not no longer mattered. I smiled and accepted the glass: “Just kidding, I can drink!” With that, I tilted my head back and downed it in one gulp. After several rounds, I was getting drunk when my phone rang. It was the police calling. “Mr. Mark, we’ve found your nephew.” I sobered up immediately and rushed to the police station by taxi. When I saw that little guy at the station, my eyes instantly reddened. They say nephews resemble their uncles—absolutely true. This little guy was practically a miniature version of me. Sure enough, the police told me that after genetic comparison with my sister and brother-in-law, they confirmed this was their lost son. Years ago, my sister had taken Martinez to the park. She turned around to buy him cotton candy, and he disappeared. My sister, consumed by guilt and grief, had a mental breakdown. Ten days after losing her child, unable to bear it, she committed suicide. Losing both wife and child in succession, my brother-in-law Tommy aged a decade overnight. This grown man cried like a child. Watching him hurt so much. At the time, John was only 3 years old and extremely clingy with me—he’d only stop crying when I held him. But helplessly, to help Tommy search for Martinez, I had to painfully leave John with his grandmother. A month later, someone said they’d seen a similar-looking child in a town. Tommy rushed there immediately, only to find the child wasn’t even the right gender. Tommy was heartbroken. In his daze, he fell into a river and drowned. Not long after, police told me that human traffickers had smuggled the children to America, but the boat they were on had capsized and sunk. “Everyone on board perished. Martinez should have been among them…” With that, all leads went completely cold, and Laura and John became my only two remaining relatives.
After handling things there, I went to my mother-in-law’s to pick up John. But I never expected that when John saw me, he would never call me Dad again. He didn’t remember me. Later when he started school and interacted with classmates, he disliked me even more. He thought I wasn’t impressive like other dads, saying I had no proper job. The officer’s words pulled me from my memories. Turns out Martinez was clever and hid in a dumpster, successfully escaping. He never boarded that boat. A homeless man had taken him home, and the two had depended on each other all these years. Recently that old man passed away. Someone discovered the child living alone and called the police, which led to finding him. Martinez was dark-skinned and thin, looking so timid and pitiful it truly broke my heart. I crouched down and patted his little head. “Don’t be afraid. I’m your Uncle Mark.” His eyes blinked, not knowing what to think. “Baby, you’ll never go hungry or cold again. From now on, you’ll live with me.” Tommy was an orphan with no grandparents, so now I was Martinez’s only living relative in this world. I brought Martinez home, bathed him, and dressed him in new clothes. Holding his little hand, I discovered it was covered in frostbite. I got the medicine kit and gently applied ointment. The little guy was tough. Though it clearly hurt, he endured without making a sound. I put on a cartoon for him. “Stay here by yourself for a bit. I’ll make you a bowl of noodles.” When I came out with the food to call him, I found he’d fallen asleep at some point. I covered him with a blanket. He woke up. Rubbing his eyes, he looked adorably confused. I was reminded of how John used to look just as clingy every time he woke up from naps when he was little. Hugging my neck, slow and endearing as a sloth—so incredibly cute. I couldn’t help pulling Martinez into my arms. He didn’t hug my neck like John used to, but instead touched my face. I came back to my senses. “Martinez, I’m Mark. From now on you’ll be with me, and this will be our home.” The little guy looked up at me, his eyes bright. “Mark? Then why aren’t you Dad?” “I’m your mother’s brother, not your father. Do you want to see your mom and dad?” He nodded. I held him as I showed him old photos one by one, telling him their stories. After looking at the photos, he suddenly kissed my cheek and called me Uncle Mark in his sweet little voice. In that moment, I felt my heart melting. Martinez was old enough for school but had never attended. I quickly contacted a kindergarten to enroll him. He adapted very well, without the crying and fussing John had when he started. Life proceeded in an orderly fashion, and Martinez and I grew closer and closer. I enjoyed making snacks in my free time. Things John had scorned, Martinez ate with delight. This day I was making pumpkin balls for Martinez again when I received a call from Laura. She seemed to have just woken up, her voice hoarse as she asked, “There’s a mall opening ceremony tomorrow.” I instinctively told her which dress to pair with which jewelry, even specifying exactly which closet and which position. After speaking, I fell silent, realizing this had become mechanical memory. Laura still didn’t seem fully awake. I could hear her rummaging around through the phone. The other end stayed quiet. I reminded her, “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” She suddenly asked if I wanted to go with her tomorrow. I found it ironic. Before, when I’d asked her to bring me to events, she never agreed once. Now divorced, why would I go? “I’ll pass. And don’t call me about these things anymore. Whether you hire a stylist or ask the nanny, just stop asking me. We’re divorced now.”
Just as I was about to hang up, I heard her change the subject. “I’m taking John to TK Plaza for swimming lessons today. You could come see him.” “No need.” Without waiting for her response, I hung up decisively. Putting down my phone, I continued making food for Martinez. Life continued peacefully this way. Until that day when I came out of the broadcast room and received a call from an unknown number. It was John’s kindergarten head teacher. She said today was parent-child art day, requiring parents and children to participate together. All the parents had arrived except John’s. The teacher warmly invited me to come. I interrupted her: “Sorry teacher, I’ve already divorced John’s mother. Custody was awarded to his mom. I won’t be handling these matters anymore.” The teacher sounded embarrassed. I continued, “Is John next to you?” Getting an affirmative answer, I asked her to put it on speakerphone. In front of the whole class of students and parents, I spoke coolly: “John, you also confirmed last time that your mom and I are divorced. I’m no longer your father. I won’t be handling your affairs anymore. Don’t call me again from now on.” After finishing, I apologized to the teacher and hung up. After work, I picked up Martinez from kindergarten. We went for hot pot, and the table next to us was actually celebrating a birthday. I suddenly thought of Martinez’s birthday. Checking the calendar, it was this Sunday. On Sunday, I pushed back all my work in advance, planning to properly spend time with Martinez. He surely hadn’t celebrated a birthday all these years. After ordering, I told him to wait at the table while I got the cake. Carrying the cake toward the restaurant, I unexpectedly ran into Laura. Ivan stood beside her. Ivan spoke first: “Weren’t you making a fuss about divorcing Laura?” I ignored him and walked past them toward the interior, but Laura grabbed me. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Weren’t you so tough? I knew you couldn’t last a few days. Now here you are crawling back with a cake for your son’s birthday. Aren’t you embarrassed?” I was speechless. “Let go. Who said I’m celebrating his birthday?” Laura stiffened. “If not for your son, then for who?” I didn’t want to argue with her anymore. “I’m done talking. Move aside. You three have a nice family celebration.” Laura’s face darkened. “Mark, enough. Don’t wait until I really get angry.” I pushed past her directly and entered the restaurant. Martinez saw me and waved with a smile. I waved back at him too. John sat at the table next to Martinez’s. He looked at me with disgust, clearly mistaking my wave as directed at him. I ignored him and sat down next to Martinez. When Laura and the others came in, they looked shocked to see me with Martinez. “Mark, who is he?” “None of your business.” Laura was furious but restrained herself in public. Martinez and I enjoyed our meal wholeheartedly. Near the end, Martinez wanted to use the restroom. He said he didn’t need me to accompany him, so I let him go. I saw John also heading toward the restroom. Probably just going to the bathroom—I didn’t think much of it. But soon after, a server shouted: “Quick, whose parents are these? Two kids are fighting here!” I jumped up and ran toward the restroom. John and Martinez were lying on the floor, both injured. Seeing me, John finally couldn’t hold back tears, his eyes red as he said pitifully, “Dad, it hurts.” Under his helpless, pitiful gaze, I unhesitatingly crouched down and picked up Martinez.
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