My son slid the bank card and the divorce papers across the table to me, like he was paying off a used-up maid. "Mom, three million. It's enough for the rest of your life." His tone was perfectly flat, like he was negotiating a business deal. I just looked at him. Twenty-six years old, six foot tall, wearing a designer suit I had scrimped and saved to buy him for his graduation. "I've looked into the divorce process. All you need to do is sign." In the living room, Richard sat on the sofa, not saying a word. I suddenly wanted to laugh. The son I raised for twenty-six years had come today to handle his father's "breakup" for him. 1. The bank card was a black card, sitting on the coffee table, glaringly obvious. The divorce process was printed on three pages, neatly paperclipped together. I looked at Kevin. He had intentionally worn a suit today, his hair styled with gel, looking like he was attending a formal business negotiation. The negotiation target was his mother. "Mom, let me finish." He sat across from me, hands clasped on his knees. "It hasn't been easy for Dad these past few years either. The feelings between you two faded a long time ago. Dragging this out isn't doing anyone any good." I didn't say anything. "The three million is a sign of Dad's sincerity. You can take this money and retire anywhere you want." Sincerity. I repeated the word in my head. "You can keep the house. You stay here, Dad won't kick you out." He paused. "But if you're willing to sell the house, Dad can add another million, making it an even four million." I looked toward Richard on the sofa. My husband. The man who shared my bed for thirty years. He was holding a teacup, eyes downcast. From beginning to end, he hadn't looked at me once. "Richard." I called his name. He finally looked up. "Hm?" Just one word. "Is this what you want?" He put down his teacup. "Kevin said it well enough. I have nothing to add." Good. What a great "nothing to add." "Mom, don't look at Dad like that," Kevin frowned. "Think about it calmly. You and Dad haven't had any feelings for each other for a long time, right?" I looked at him. "Your dad and I have no feelings for each other?" "...Yeah." He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Look at you and Dad. How many words have you spoken to each other these past few years? How many meals have you eaten together? You just stay at home all day, while Dad works himself to the bone out there—" "Works himself to the bone?" I interrupted him. "Your dad works himself to the bone out there?" Kevin froze for a second. I stood up. "Fine, then let me ask you a question." I looked my son dead in the eye. "Do you know where the money came from for your four years of college?" 2. Kevin opened his mouth. "The tuition... didn't Dad pay for it?" I laughed. "Your dad paid for it?" I walked over to the cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and took out a manila folder. Inside was a stack of bills and transfer records. I had started saving them before he even went to college. Every single transaction, clear as day. "Your freshman year, tuition plus room and board, ninety-three thousand dollars." I slapped the first piece of paper onto the coffee table. "Your dad's business took a hit that year. He couldn't pull a single cent from his accounts." Kevin looked down. "Where did this money come from?" I pointed at the numbers on the page. "I sold the condo my parents gave me when I got married. The one in that old neighborhood where you lived when you were little. A two-bedroom." Richard's teacup paused. "Mom..." Kevin looked up. "Your sophomore year, eighty-seven thousand dollars." The second piece of paper. "I borrowed thirty thousand from my mom, and twenty thousand from my sister. The rest... I sold all my jewelry." I looked at him. "The gold bracelets your grandmother left me, the jade pendant my mom gave me. I sold it all." Kevin stopped talking. "Your junior year, one hundred and ten thousand dollars. You said you wanted to change your major, retake some credits, and take extra language classes." The third piece of paper. "Your dad said he had no money. I cashed out my life insurance, sold my stocks at a loss, and emptied the retirement fund I had been building for ten years." "Your senior year, one hundred and thirty-two thousand dollars. You said you wanted to apply for a master's program, hire a consultant, and build up your resume." The fourth piece of paper. "I asked your dad to borrow the money. Do you know what your dad said?" I looked at Richard. His eyes were downcast, refusing to look at me. "He said, 'Figure it out yourself. I don't have any money.'" Kevin's face changed. "So I spent the compensation money from the demolition of that condo my parents gave me, and I spent the last bit of inheritance my mother left me." I stacked the four pieces of paper together. "Four years. Four hundred and twenty thousand dollars." I looked at Kevin. "Every single penny, it was all my money." The living room fell silent. Kevin looked at his dad. Richard held his teacup, motionless. "What were you saying just now?" I asked my son. "You said your dad giving me three million was 'sincerity'?" Kevin opened his mouth but made no sound. "I spent four hundred and twenty thousand dollars putting you through school." I enunciated every word. "Your dad is 'paying me off' with three million." "This is what you call sincerity?" 3. Kevin's face flushed red. "Mom, I... I didn't know about this..." "You didn't know?" I looked at him. "You didn't know I sold a house? You didn't know I sold my jewelry? You didn't know I borrowed money from relatives that I still haven't finished paying back?" He didn't speak. "Of course you didn't know." I nodded. "You were living the high life abroad. Your social media was full of trips, parties, and designer bags." "Of course you didn't know your mother was at home eating plain bread, wearing ten-year-old clothes, and couldn't even bear to buy a tube of lipstick." Kevin lowered his head. "Mom, I..." "You just said I 'stay at home all day'?" I cut him off. "Do you know what I do at home?" I pointed toward the kitchen. "I cooked your dad's three meals a day for thirty years." I pointed toward the laundry room. "I ironed your dad's shirts for thirty years." I pointed toward the bedroom. "I packed away your dad's seasonal clothes for thirty years." I looked at him. "I didn't go out to work because your dad said 'the house needs someone to take care of it'." "I don't have my own income because your dad said 'the money I make is your money'." "And now you're telling me, three million is enough to pay me off?" Kevin looked up. "Mom, that's not what I meant..." "Then what did you mean?" I asked him. "You took your dad's bank card, printed out the divorce process, sat in front of me, and told me 'all you need to do is sign'." "What did you mean?" He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words. I turned to Richard. "What about you?" I asked my husband. "What do you mean?" Richard finally put down his teacup. He sighed. "Sharon, let's just part amicably, okay?" Part amicably. I stared at him. "Richard, let me ask you a question." He looked at me. "Why the sudden rush for a divorce?" 4. Richard didn't answer. He looked at Kevin. Kevin cleared his throat. "Mom, what Dad means is... there's no point in keeping things going like this, so it's better to..." "I didn't ask you." I cut him off. "I'm asking your dad." Richard was silent for a moment. "Sharon, we're both in our fifties. At this age, what's there left to fight over?" "You didn't answer my question." "..." "Why the sudden rush for a divorce?" He didn't speak. I stared at him. "Is there someone else?" His eyes flickered for a second. He quickly recovered. "Don't talk nonsense." "I'm talking nonsense?" I laughed. "Then tell me, where did you go on that business trip last month?" He froze. "...Florida." "Florida?" I nodded. "Then what does 'Miami Bay Family Resort' on your receipt mean?" His face changed. "Family." I repeated the word. "You went to Florida on a business trip and stayed at a family resort?" Kevin frowned. "Mom, aren't you overthinking this..." "Overthinking?" I looked at him. "Then let me ask your dad one more question." I stared at Richard. "Who is the woman in your contacts saved as 'Little Fish'?" Richard's face went completely pale. 5. That night, I couldn't sleep. Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I played back the last thirty years in my head like a movie. Richard and I were college sweethearts. His family was poor, but I didn't care. After graduation, when he started his own business, I gave him my entire dowry as startup capital. When his company went under, I stood by him as he built it back up. When he had endless networking dinners, I stayed home and raised our child. When his career took off, I quit my job to be a full-time housewife. Twenty-six years. I gave the best years of my life entirely to this family. And what I got in return was a bank card and a printed divorce process. The next day, Richard left for work. Kevin went back to his company. I was alone in the house. I sat in the living room, looking at that black bank card on the coffee table, suddenly feeling how ridiculous this all was. Three million. He thought three million could buy out my thirty years. I picked up his tablet. I opened Richard's messaging app—he never used a passcode on this device because he thought I "would never check." I found "Little Fish." I clicked into the chat history. "Hubby, the baby called you Daddy today~" Attached was a photo of a boy, about five years old, sitting in a car seat, smiling at the camera. My hands started to shake. I scrolled up. "Richard, the condo is finished renovating, when are you coming to see it?" Attached was a photo of a fully furnished, high-end luxury apartment. I scrolled further up. "Did you transfer the household expenses for this month? Leo's preschool tuition went up again." Leo. Five years old. I silently did the math in my head. Five years ago. Five years ago, when Kevin had just gone abroad. Five years ago, when I was scrimping and saving at home, selling houses and jewelry, borrowing money to put our son through school. Five years ago, when Richard said, "I don't have any money." Five years ago. He already had another woman. He had another child. 6. I took screenshots of the chat logs and saved them into a hidden album on my phone. Then I scrolled further up. Older messages. "Richard, does Kevin know about us?" Richard replied, "Don't worry, I'll handle it." "Will he tell his mom?" "No, Kevin's a sensible kid, he won't say anything." I stared at the screen. My hands were shaking. Kevin. My son. He knew. He knew all along. I kept scrolling. Messages from three years ago. "Richard, when are you going to divorce her?" "Just wait a bit longer. Kevin hasn't graduated yet. Once his career is stable, I'll lay my cards on the table." "How long do I have to wait? Leo is already three..." "Soon, I promise." Two years ago. "Richard, you promised me..." "I know, just a little longer. Kevin just got back, I need to help him get set up with a job first. Once he's got a solid footing, I'll tell her." A year ago. "Richard, Leo asked me why Daddy doesn't live at home." "I'm coming over right now, don't worry." "How many times have you said 'soon'?" "This time it's for real. I've already talked to Kevin, he's going to help me persuade his mom." I put the tablet down. The living room was very quiet. Sunlight streamed in through the window, landing on the bank card on the coffee table. Three million. Now I knew exactly what this three million meant. It was "payoff money." Paying off the "original wife" to make room for "Little Fish." My good son had known about it for years. He wasn't here to "mediate." He was here to help his dad "clear the field."
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