Chapter 1

The wall was covered with family pictures, all captured during award ceremonies, but the men standing beside Mom and me in every single shot were all strangers.

"Rebecca, who are the guys standing next to you in these pictures?"

Dad's voice was icy, his gaze practically burning a hole through the frames.

I had no idea why he was so angry, and I fiddled with my fingers, completely at a loss for words.

The maintenance guy wiped the sweat from his brow. "What are you talking about, kid? Your dad's still very much alive!"

With a nervous chuckle, he hurried out of the apartment to escape the tension.

Hearing those words made Dad's jaw twitch with rage. He was so angry that he didn't even notice the cake slipping from his grip and smashing onto the floor.

"I've only been gone for two months, and you two are already telling people I'm dead? Rebecca, come out! Is this how you're raising our kid?"

Terrified, I rushed forward to defend Mom. "Nobody taught me that! Don't blame Mom. I'm the one who said it!"

With a dark expression, Dad tore the frames off the wall one by one, intending to smash them to pieces. But as he lifted them, the text detailing the award-winning competitions caught his eye.

His hands froze in midair, and he turned to look at me with a complicated expression.

I waited, my chest tight with anxiety, wondering how he would react.

Dad didn't know that after he effectively vanished to stay at Winona Sutton's house two months ago, Mom secretly hired someone to be my dad for school competitions. She had done it more than once.

As if drawn by the commotion, Mom emerged from the bedroom. In just two short months, her appearance had changed drastically. Her eyes were hollow, her steps were unsteady, and her frame was skin and bones.

Upon seeing Dad, she didn't cry and scream for a divorce, nor did she go into a hysterical frenzy, wielding a knife to force him to choose between her and Winona. She simply stared at him with an indifferent gaze.

Dad's fury vanished instantly, his throat bobbing as guilt and shame caught up to him.

As if he remembered something, he frantically pulled out a brand-new camera from his bag, offering it to Mom with a tender expression.

"Becky, look. This is the camera model you've wanted for the longest time. And about your dream of getting back into photography, I've already submitted your portfolio to an international competition."

Mom just stared at it blankly. There was no surprise, nor joy in her expression.

I recognized the camera instantly. It was the exact model Mom had kept in her online wishlist for two years now.

To save up for our household expenses, she could never bring herself to buy it. When she finally built up the courage to ask Dad for it, he repeatedly brushed her off with excuses.

But Dad didn't know that the model he bought was already outdated, and Mom had already purchased a much newer camera herself.

As he watched Mom's reaction, Dad's brow drew into a tight knot. He let out a sigh, helplessly sliding the camera directly into her hands, his tone softening with indulgence.

"Alright, honey. It's my fault. I'm to blame. You've been feeling miserable ever since the miscarriage, and here I am picking a fight with you. Don't worry. Things are wrapping up on Winona's end. Just give it a little more time."

Give it a little more time?

I balled my hands into fists, my heart aching for Mom as I looked at her.

It had been two months. Dad was nothing but a liar. He said those exact words 52 times, yet he never actually followed through.

While Mom waited for him, she endured the miscarriage of my baby brother, and she waited until her depression spiraled into self-harm.

Even when she was covered in scars, he never came back to her. Instead, he would always dismiss her and throw the blame back in her face.

"Rebecca, I told you she's my professor's daughter! We went to the same school and work together! Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

Just then, Dad's phone rang. He answered it in a hurry, and through the receiver, the crying of another little girl echoed.

"Daddy, please come home! Mommy's face is burning up. She fell on the floor and won't get up!"

Immediately after, a woman's voice sounded in the background as she weakly scolded the girl, "Why are you calling him? We can't keep being a burden to him…"

My brow furrowed, and an overwhelming urge to scream boiled up inside me.

He was my dad, not anyone else's!

But Dad's eyes instantly turned red, his voice trembling with emotion. "Winnie, what are you talking about? I want nothing more than for you to lean on me for the rest of my life!"

As he spoke, he frantically tossed the camera onto the bed. "Becky, Winona might have pushed herself too much. I need to check on her right now. I'll come back and explain everything to you in a bit!"

Dad practically fled the apartment.

Mom and I stared at his retreating figure. We both knew that he wouldn't be returning tonight.