As I staggered from the weight of the bags and fell down the escalator, Vivian was in the baby store with Jason, picking out children’s items.
When Jason hesitated between pink or blue, she fondly pulled out her black card and bought out the entire store.
Just as I, battered and disheveled, walked into the store, I heard the shop assistant say to Jason with heartfelt admiration.
“Mr. Woods, you’re so lucky to have such a wonderful wife. The baby’s not even born yet and it already has the most loving mother in the world.”
Staring at the little star-patterned hair tie around my wrist, I suddenly recalled that day when our daughter, Yura, was rushed into the ER with acute meningitis.
I had called Vivian 199 times. Her phone was on, yet she didn’t answer even once.
Inside the emergency room, our daughter whispered to me, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s, “Daddy, I won’t sneak milk candies anymore.”
I cried as I gently stroked her face. “Why would you say that, baby?”
“Because… Mommy must be mad if I wasn’t obedient… That’s why she doesn’t want to come see me. Dad… I’m sorry… I'm such a useless child. I couldn’t help you get Mommy’s love.”