When my wife, Sienna, lost her family and her fortune, I walked away. After she rebuilt her empire, I showed up at her door every year. The first year, I held our son, Leo, and she tossed me fifty thousand dollars, telling me to get lost. The second year, I brought my terminal cancer diagnosis. She didn't even glance at the report, gave me a hundred thousand, and told me to disappear forever. For the third and fourth years, I did as she wished and vanished from this world. It wasn't until the fifth year that she received a call from our son. “Dad, when are you bringing the food? I’m hungry.” 1 “Dad, I’m so hungry.” I watched as my four-year-old son, Leo, having slipped away from the shelter, found my old phone, charged it, and mimicked me making a call. When I was bedridden and dying, I had relied entirely on DoorDash. My orders, often cheap, were always the last to be delivered. When Leo was hungry, I would call the rider to rush them. So, he thought that calling would magically fill his tummy. He dialed again and again, the faint screen glow illuminating his innocent face, but this time he had called the emergency contact—Sienna. I wanted to stop him, but my hand passed right through his small body. A flicker of annoyance. Three years, and I still forget that I am only a soul. “Leo, don’t call her. She won’t answer.” She probably still believes I’m just a gold-digger who ran when things got tough. “Go open the small wooden box on the table. I left you some money in there.” Most of the money I’d taken from Sienna was put into a trust for his future. The box held a thousand dollars in cash for any immediate needs. As if he could hear me, Leo walked over and picked up the box. Just then, a cool, crisp voice answered from the phone. “Dean Harrison?” I froze, realizing the call had been active for over a minute. “Didn’t I tell you to go die in a hole somewhere?” Her tone was utterly flat, as indifferent and cold as ever. I curled my fingers, feeling a deep, spectral shame. My son’s mother was cursing me out right in front of him, even though they didn't know who the other was. She sneered. “Want more cash? Fine. Come beg me for it.” Leo’s eyes lit up as his tiny voice chirped into the receiver. “Ma’am! When will you bring my food? I’m hungry!” Silence stretched on the other end. “Put Dean on the phone.” “You mean Dad?” Leo’s face instantly dropped. “But he can’t answer the phone.” Sienna’s voice sharpened. “What do you mean, he can’t?” “Dad says he’s sleeping.” A four-and-a-half-year-old has no concept of death. A harsh, dismissive laugh came through the phone. She clearly didn’t believe this pathetic excuse. “Is that so? I’m curious to see what new trick he’s pulling now.” I tried to curve my lips into a smile, but I couldn't. What trick could I possibly pull? I didn't even have the energy left to float over and scare her. Leo hung up, his mouth curled up in anticipation. He curled into a ball on the edge of the worn sofa, waiting patiently. But I was frantic. Sienna hated me so much. What would she do to our son? An hour later, a knock sounded. My non-existent heart pounded. “Don’t open the door, Leo!” Leo already had the door open. Outside were no delicious meals, only several men in dark suits—security. They swept the small room, confirmed no one else was there, and took my son away. “No!” I was utterly helpless, watching Leo being carried off. When Sienna opened her own front door, she saw Leo, tear-stained and crying. She then peered over his head, scanning the empty space behind him. “Where is that man?” 2 The man she meant was me. I lowered my gaze. In her mind, I wasn't even worth a name anymore. The bodyguard answered truthfully. “When we arrived, the only person in the house was the boy.” Leo wrenched himself free and hugged Sienna’s leg. “Auntie, the bad men grabbed me.” I was stunned. This was only the third time Leo had ever seen Sienna. He didn't know she was the mother who refused to acknowledge him. Yet, blood ties were at work, creating a natural, instinctive dependence. Sienna looked uncomfortable when he hugged her. She frowned and scoffed. “He really is heartless, sending his own brat to face my anger.” I waved my hands frantically, a futile gesture. “No, Leo isn’t a brat! He’s our child.” She would never believe it. After she gave birth, the doctors found Leo had the Wei family's inherited heart condition. I had sought her out then. Her words still echoed in my spectral ears. “The child I gave birth to was a stillborn.” “Dean Harrison, do you think I’m the same Sienna you tricked before? Fool me once, shame on you. Try to fool me twice, shame on me.” “Get lost. Here’s twenty thousand dollars. That’s the buy-out price for our five years together.” I said, “It’s not enough.” She didn’t want the boy, but the boy needed money for surgery. Sienna gritted her teeth in fury. “You really are consumed by greed! Fine, here’s fifty thousand. Because that’s all you’re worth.” Five years of love, reduced to a commodity for sale. I knew this act would make Sienna despise me, but I didn't care. Leo used that money for his surgery. He would live a healthy life now, and that made it all worth it. Now, Sienna spoke to Leo in a cold voice. “Tell me, where is your father hiding?” Leo looked up, his eyes full of tears. His features were so much like mine. Sienna seemed to lose herself for a moment. “Dad sleeps in the daytime, and at night he goes up to be a star.” At this, Sienna’s expression hardened. She pulled her leg away from him. “He's resorting to the pity-play now, is he?” Leo stumbled and fell onto his backside. I floated over, using all my strength, yet still failing to break his fall, watching him land right through my arms. The small box he was clutching also crashed to the floor. My son, who hadn't eaten properly in two days, struggled twice to get up. My spectral heart twisted in agony. Sienna watched him coldly, though her fists were inexplicably clenched. Leo hugged the small box to his chest, then bravely patted his own rear. “Dad, it doesn’t hurt.” For a moment, I wondered if he could see me. Then I remembered. When I was paralyzed and dying from stomach cancer, he learned to take care of me at just two years old. He even tried to collect plastic bottles while I slept. One day, he came back injured after a fight with a stray dog, and I coughed up blood from the shock. He smiled and comforted me, saying he wasn't hurt. Sienna looked around the room, her voice brittle. “Dean Harrison, come out!” The room remained silent, devoid of life. I was standing right in front of her, yet she couldn’t see me. After waiting a beat, she found my absence infuriating. Her voice was full of contempt. “How heartless. To use a child this big as a pawn.” “Get him out of here.” Sienna said this and walked into her lavish house. The security men abandoned Leo on the large, unfamiliar street. Night had fallen. Leo stood there, alone and confused. He spoke to the little box. “Dad, where should I go now?” My heart ached beyond measure. I could only pray that the people at the shelter would realize he was missing soon. Leo looked up at the moon. “Dad, if I follow the moon, will I find you?” He was too hungry to walk and fell twice. Stumbling, he finally found a public waste bin and spotted half-eaten slice of cake inside. His eyes lit up. He grabbed the stale, slightly sour cake and shoved it into his mouth. I wept, trying to stop him. “Leo, don't eat that! It will make you sick!” He couldn't hear me, but the cake was knocked out of his hand by someone else. 3 It was Sienna, who had appeared without me noticing. She looked at my dirty, starving son and clenched her jaw. “Dean Harrison, is this how you treat your son?” She forced him into the car parked nearby. Leo began to cry and scream, all affection gone. “Why won’t you let me eat? You’re a bad person!” He tried to lick the residue from his fingers. Sienna grabbed his hands. With a mixture of disgust and meticulous care, she wiped his tiny hands clean with a wet wipe. “Didn’t your father teach you not to pick up things from the ground?” Her movements were gentle, yet precise. I remembered when we were together. She always looked after me with such devotion. My friends called her the mom-friend, gentle and considerate. Leo, however, was as stubborn as I was. When he pushed her away, his small hand slapped her cheek. “I don’t want you, you bad person!” I flinched, terrified, and looked at Sienna. She didn’t look angry. She lowered her lashes, tossed the used wipe, and stared out the window, refusing to look at the side profile that was so much like mine. Her voice was laced with self-mockery. “A temper as fierce as your father’s. Thank God he’s not my child.” I gave a bitter, soundless laugh. Sorry to disappoint you. The small box slipped from Leo’s lap. She bent to pick it up. She glanced at the dirty wooden box and seemed to find it strangely familiar. I instinctively wanted to intervene. If she opened it, she would learn the truth from all those years ago. She would live the rest of her life racked with guilt. Better that she hate me than feel that crushing guilt. Yet, I looked at Leo, and the part of me that wanted him to be safe under his mother's care yearned for her to open it. I was torn, a knot of anxiety. She simply tossed the box back into Leo’s lap. “Stop picking up junk.” I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Sienna brought Leo back to her mansion. She instructed the housekeeper to prepare some food, adding after a glance at Leo’s scrawny frame, “Something easily digestible.” “I don’t know how that man raises a child. Skinny as a rail. Good thing I didn’t marry someone like him.” I nodded. I was, undeniably, a poor father. Sienna sat at the dining table, watching Leo pick the carrots out of his food. She frowned and instinctively snapped, “Dean Harrison, don’t pick at your food.” Both she and I froze at the sound of the name. “I’m keeping you right under my nose. I refuse to believe Dean won’t come to collect you.” With that, Sienna rose and walked upstairs, her back view looking like she was fleeing. Leo’s eyes brightened. “Really? Dad is coming to get me?” That night, Leo refused to sleep in the guest room. He insisted on the sofa. The nanny couldn't persuade him, and Sienna finally grew impatient. “Kids are a pain. Let him. He can sleep wherever he wants.” Leo slept on the sofa for three days. Seeing him curled up in a tiny ball, Sienna frowned fiercely. “Was your father so cruel he never let you sleep in a bed?” Leo shook his head. “Of course not. Dad is on the sofa.” Sienna didn’t understand, but I was weeping. We only had one sofa. When my illness worsened, I was often unconscious on that sofa, and Leo thought I was just sleeping. He would climb into my arms and hold me tight. Even at the shelter, he preferred to stay on the sofa in the reception area, as if he were sleeping in my embrace. Sienna started working from home recently, often staring at the door. She watched Leo, who was also looking at the door, and asked: “Hey, what’s your name?” “Leo Harrison.” “Leo Harrison, your father abandoned you, too.” Leo instantly looked like a defiant little animal. “No way! My dad would never abandon me!” “Oh, really? Then why hasn’t he shown up to get you after an entire week?” As soon as she finished speaking, the doorbell rang. Sienna stood up immediately, a look of grim confirmation on her face. “Your father is here.” Leo scrambled to his feet, looking toward the door with desperate anticipation. When the door opened, both of them froze. 4 Leo pouted. “Liar! That’s not Dad.” The man at the door was handsome, wearing a white shirt. I had seen him once before, when Leo had just had his surgery and was with Sienna as they left an OB/GYN appointment, looking very close. The man glanced at Leo, confused. “Where did this kid come from?” Sienna answered flatly. “I just picked him up off the street.” The man’s eyes widened. “You’re collecting children now?” He remembered something and pointed furiously at the flower bed in the yard. “Who pulled up my sunflowers!” My heart felt a dull ache. They were living together. Sienna glanced at Leo, who was shorter than her knee. Leo guiltily avoided her eyes and went back to the sofa. Sienna seemed indifferent. “It’s just flowers. Plant more.” Seeing her reaction, the man didn’t press the issue. He followed Sienna inside, but as soon as he sat on the sofa, he covered his nose. “What is that weird smell? Sienna, you said you were extra sensitive to smells while pregnant. Can’t you smell this?” I stared, shocked, at her flat stomach. After seeing how she had treated Leo over the past few days, I had hoped that she would realize he was our child and treat him well. But now that she was having a child with another man, what would happen to my son? Sienna finally noticed the strange odor in the air. She looked at Leo on the sofa. She walked over, lifted Leo up, and pulled back the sofa cushion. A pile of food wrapped in plastic bags and seven withered sunflowers scattered across the floor. Both she and the man were speechless. Sienna’s face flushed with fury. “Leo Harrison, what in the hell are you doing?” Leo wailed. “Don’t touch my things! I was saving them for Dad!” I remembered the times when Leo was tiny and outside collecting trash. Some kind people would see him and buy him food. He never ate a bite himself, always bringing it home to me. After he was taken to the shelter, the director taught him a few times, and he learned to eat some, but always saved what he thought was the very best. Other kids at the shelter avoided him because they thought he smelled bad. Sienna’s eyes were complicated. “Why would you do that?” Leo cried miserably. “Dad never got to eat anything good. You said he would come and get me, and I wanted to save these for when I see him.” Sienna wanted to scoff, but the sound caught in her throat. “What are you talking about? He went off to live the good life with some rich woman. What could he possibly not have eaten?” Leo shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Dad always said he wasn’t hungry.” At first, I said I wasn't hungry so he would eat more. Later, when the disease took over, I truly couldn't eat. The man beside Sienna asked, “Why is there a cremation box on the floor?” It was the small wooden box that had fallen when Leo stumbled. Sienna stared blankly. “An urn?” No wonder it felt familiar. As if she had seen it somewhere before. A small stack of money and a letter had fallen out of the box. The letter seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Sienna’s trembling hands struggled several times before she could pick it up. The envelope bore my handwriting, which she knew so well: [For Leo, from Dad.] She tore open the envelope. In an instant, her eyes turned crimson.
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