Chapter 2Unspoken Apologies

I ended up just staying in the guardhouse.

I practically finished all my homework before the torrential rain finally stopped.

The security guard, Mr. Miller, even shared his dinner with me—a delicious basket of steamed buns.

I thanked him and walked back to the apartment my mom and I rented.

I did a quick sweep with the mop, read a chapter of a book, and my mom finally came home.

The bedroom door pushed open, and my mom poked half her body in, smiling brightly: "Hey sweetie, why aren't you asleep yet?"

I instantly noticed she was hiding her other arm behind the door.

"Mom! Did you hurt your left hand?"

She scratched her head: "You've got sharp eyes, kiddo. 20/20 vision for sure."

I asked her what happened.

"A box fell on it at work," she sighed. "It's fine now, but I can't use my left hand for a couple of weeks."

"Does that mean you can stay home and rest for those couple of weeks?" I asked carefully.

"What kind of generous capitalist do you think I work for? Taking two weeks off? Do I still want a job?"

I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit upset.

"Ta-da! Look what I got!" My mom suddenly raised her voice, quickly pulling out a container of roast duck and a can of beer from behind her back to change the subject. "My boss actually gave this to me."

"Were you planning on eating it all by yourself before you saw me?" I asked quietly.

She scratched her cheek. "Am I that kind of person?"

I had to remind her of the numerous "cold cases" where she had secretly eaten takeout, drank boba, and binge-watched TV shows in the living room while I was asleep...

In the dim light, we polished off the roast duck.

I suddenly remembered seeing Connor's dad today, so I softly asked: "Mom, what kind of person was my dad?"

I knew my mom didn't like talking about my dad.

But after a moment of silence, she actually told me:

He had a bad temper. He spent all his time working. To solve problems, he only knew how to throw around black credit cards...

"What did he look like? Did he have big hands?"

"Pretty big. He was pretty tall too." My mom burst out laughing. "Why are you asking?"

I wanted to hear her say more, but my mom's voice went flat: "Kiddo, knowing these things is useless. He's dead."

I had to ask one last question with pleading eyes: "Did Dad love me back then?"

She stroked my hair, her voice softening. "Go to sleep, sweetie."

I don't know why, but her smiling face looked so sad.

The next day, I got to school early and finished writing the English essay I hadn't completed yesterday.

When I turned the essay in, Ms. Evans actually took mine and read it aloud to the whole class as a model essay.

"My Father"

My father often has a stern face and always looks unhappy.

My father is always very busy and has no time to take care of me, but I know he is always by my side.

My father is the best father in the world. Whenever it rains, he drops all his work to come to school and pick me up.

His hands are so big, just like his big black umbrella, capable of shielding me and my mother from the storms of the entire world...

After school, Connor found me, his face filled with rage:

"You thief! You clearly wrote about my dad."

He reached out to shove me. I quickly backed away, but he chased after me, pinning me against the wall at the back of the classroom, yelling fiercely: "Thief!"

I suddenly felt a surge of anger. I used all my strength to shove him forward.

I was actually taller and stronger than him. He fell hard onto the floor, his face immediately turning black as he started cursing at me.

I had never heard so many vicious words in my life!

The new and old grudges combined. Not only did I not let him go, but I straddled him, throwing a punch for every curse word he spat.

By the time we came to our senses, Ms. Evans had rushed into the classroom.

She let out a shriek, yanked me off Connor, and held him, comforting him for a long time.

Connor put on a fake crying act, whimpering a few times, and cried out emotionally: "Ms. Evans, my dad entrusted me to you. I've always seen you as a mother. You're all I have left, boo-hoo-hoo."

Ms. Evans turned her head and glared at me fiercely: "Chloe! Right now, immediately, tell your mother to come to the school!"