Chapter 1
She promised she would wait for me at our home, but she never visited me even once.
I thought she was just busy and didn’t think much of it.
Until the day I was released, I saw my wife leaning against another man’s chest, happily watching a boy and a girl playing in the yard.
No wonder she had no time to see me - she was too busy living her happy new life.
I sacrificed four and a half years in prison, thinking I was protecting her. But she didn’t care at all.
The little boy made eye contact with me as I crouched behind the iron fence. He turned and shouted excitedly:
“Mommy, Daddy, look! There’s a homeless man begging!”
The man looked over at me, and I felt my heart turn cold.
Wasn’t he Henry Shaw, the one who had reported my wife all those years ago?
…
Henry pulled the two children behind him and looked up warily.
“Go play with mommy, kids.”
The two children bounced over to my wife’s side. Claire just frowned as she stared at me.
Henry reached out to pat my shoulder, hesitated for a few seconds when he saw my ragged clothes, but still completed the greeting between men.
“Next time you come to our house, remember to call ahead. You showing up like this… almost scared the kids.”
“I remember you weren’t supposed to be out of prison this early.”
Henry pulled out a cigarette and offered it to me. I didn’t take it.
“Got out early for good behavior,” I muttered, the words tasting bitter. “The deed to this mansion is in my name.”
The fruits of my years of hard work had become Henry’s gift, handed to him on a silver platter.
Henry fell silent. He lit the cigarette and smoked it himself. Claire walked over, and Henry’s free hand naturally draped over her shoulder.
Claire looked me up and down, making me uncomfortable.
She let out a soft sigh, her expressive eyes gazing at me:
“You’ve lost weight.”
As if we were long-lost lovers reuniting.
I wanted to ask her if she still meant what she said years ago, if she had thought of me at all in these long days.
Henry suddenly clapped his hands, cigarette dangling from his lips.
“I almost forgot! Look at my scatterbrain. It’s all because your son riled me up.”
“Sweetie, stop eating.”
He picked up the dog bowl covered in the family pet’s drool and tossed it arrogantly at my feet. He blew a contemptuous puff of smoke in my face.
“Lambert, I’m not trying to insult you. Our dog’s monthly food budget is definitely way more than what you got in prison. The quality is much better too.”
“I just want to satisfy my curiosity. I heard that people who’ve been in prison for a while will eat even rotten vegetable roots with gusto. I want to see if it’s true that you’ll eat anything now.”
I had come on an empty stomach, rushing over as soon as I was released because I wanted to see Claire quickly.
But I certainly wasn’t so desperate as to eat rotten vegetables with relish, like he claimed.
I just never imagined that Claire already had two children.
She had long forgotten me and my sacrifices.
Henry treated me like less than human, and Claire smiled along indulgently.
[Paywall]
I angrily grabbed Henry’s collar with one hand.
“What are you so smug about? Setting up my wife, stealing my family - I haven’t even settled accounts with you for that yet!”
Claire’s nails scraped my arm as she impatiently said:
“Andrew Lambert, Henry was just joking with you. Why are you overreacting like this?”
I forced down the bitterness in my heart and let go.
As soon as I released him, Claire hurried to Henry’s side, carefully straightening his collar.
“Claire, aren’t you going to explain anything to me? Him and those twins…”
Claire glanced at her watch, her tone cold and distant.
“We’ll discuss this minor issue later. It’s time for Nathan and Haley’s swing session at our house.”
They treated me like I was invisible, walking away hand in hand.
My anger felt like it was hitting cotton - no one cared.
Claire pulled out a $100 bill from between her phone and case, tucking it into my hand.
“Thanks for your hard work these past four years. Treat yourself to something nice.”
I stood there stunned, holding the $100 bill. Keeping cash between the phone and case was a habit I’d had for years.
It started when Claire and I were on vacation once. She fainted from heatstroke, my phone was dead, and I had no cash on me.
I had to ask many passersby before borrowing money from a girl who had issues with Claire.
Her condition was slapping me once for $5.
From then on, to be prepared for emergencies, I would check every morning that we both had cash behind our phones.
Claire’s actions still had traces of my influence, but she no longer loved me.
Only this house we had lived in for years told me that our loving past had truly existed.
I swallowed the acid in my heart, found the key under the doormat, and prepared to go inside to change into slippers.
The housekeeper suddenly loudly scolded me.
“Mr. Lambert, what are you doing? There are muddy footprints all over the tiles. Can’t you think about how hard it is for us to clean?”
The housekeeper was someone I had hired from my hometown. She had been very grateful to me at first.
I never imagined that in four and a half years in prison, it wasn’t just Claire whose heart had changed.
I ignored the housekeeper and picked up a pair of slippers.
She exclaimed again: “Mr. Lambert, you’re breaking the rules again. Those slippers are for guests!”
I was about to lose my temper when she ran back and brought me a pair of my old shoes, along with two red plastic bags to use as shoe covers.
She patted my back like an elder.
“Mr. Lambert, don’t be angry with me. I have to follow the orders of whoever pays my salary, right?”
“Your things… the madam had me pack them all in the storage room. You should take that pile of junk and move out quickly.”
I shook my head and went to the storage room.
Expensive watches and custom suits were carelessly piled on the floor. But on the spotless top shelf of a glass cabinet sat a shoebox.
I carefully took it down, only to find shredded cloth shoes inside. The uppers had several burn holes, with traces of cigarette ash.
When I came out holding the shoebox, the happy family of four had returned.
Seeing my unhappy expression, Claire came over and felt my forehead.
“You don’t have a fever. Why do you look so unwell? I’ll have the housekeeper make you some chicken soup later.”
“I just discussed it with Henry. We’ve known each other for so many years, so you can continue living in our home. We won’t force you out onto the streets.”
I stepped back to avoid her touch and opened the shoebox.
“Who ruined my shoes?”
Claire glanced at them. “The ones your mom made for you, right?”
I nodded. Claire pointed at me and let out a clear laugh.
“Henry, he’s treating a pair of $20 cloth shoes like a treasure.”
“Who could stand this mama’s boy, wearing the same ratty shoes every day, putting them in the safe when it rains. Why doesn’t he just live with his mom forever.”
The little boy who had been hiding behind Henry bravely stepped forward, raising his hand high.
“I did it! Don’t blame my mommy.”
He seemed very proud. Claire gently ruffled his hair.
“If you break someone’s things, you have to pay for them. Go buy him a new pair.”
Then she said to me resignedly:
“Andrew Lambert, don’t quibble with a child. He’ll buy you a new pair, so let it go.”
The chubby boy ran over with an alligator skin wallet, taking out a handful of coins and scattering them on me.
He grinned, looking very much like Henry when he smiled.
Claire praised the boy for being sensible, but when she looked at me again, her brow furrowed.
“This matter is over now. What child isn’t naughty sometimes? Your old-fashioned cloth shoes - $20 is already generous of him.”
Henry gestured mysteriously with his cigarette.
The shoes were placed too high for a 3-foot-tall child to reach.
And there were cigarette ashes on them.
Claire followed my gaze, playfully punched Henry, then turned to me with an icy expression.
“You don’t suspect Henry did it, do you? Even if he knew that ratty shoe was your family heirloom, Henry wouldn’t bother touching your junk. Just have your mom make you another pair.”
She won’t be making any more.
This was the last pair of shoes my mom had sewn for me.
In those bitter years I spent in prison, only my mom visited once.
She specifically instructed me to treat Claire well in the future.
But was it me who didn’t want to have a good life with Claire?
In the five years I longed for her…
She was laughing in another man’s arms.
Claire ignored me and picked up her child.
“Baby must be hungry. Let’s go eat. Honey, you come quickly too.”