My parents were on the brink of a nasty divorce because of my dad’s affair. The only thing stopping them was the custody battle over me. To prove she could support me, my mom got a high-paying job that required travel. On the day she left for a business trip, she made my dad promise to take care of five-year-old me. But the moment his first love called, he abandoned me to go cook for her cats. Before he left, he dumped a case of instant noodles and a pack of water bottles on the kitchen floor. Five days later, I developed a high fever. In my confusion, I swallowed my grandmother's heart medication instead of Tylenol. With my heart rate spiraling out of control, I called my dad in agony: "Daddy, I'm sick. I took the wrong medicine... I think I'm dying." His voice dripped with impatience at being woken up: "Why are you lying like your mother? Stop making things up!" "I'll be back in a few days. Go to sleep." The drugs made me nauseous. I begged him one last time: "Daddy, please save me. I really—" I heard the phone being tossed aside. A woman's voice drifted through the line: "Your daughter says she's dying. Aren't you worried?" His tone was casual, unbothered: "Don't listen to her nonsense. If she dies, it saves me the trouble!" "She's the only reason her mother won't sign the divorce papers!" I remembered the countless times my mom broke down because of his cheating. He was right. Only if I died could my mom finally be free. 1 I used my last ounce of strength to crawl into bed, clutching the family photo from the nightstand. I huddled under the covers, staring at it. In the photo, Mom was kissing my cheek, her smile radiant. Dad was looking at us with deep affection. Mom said this photo was taken when I was two. That was before Dad's first love came back. His love was entirely in this home. When I was three, she returned. His gaze toward Mom and me turned into indifference and annoyance. But Dad always said he loved me. I was the extension of his life. Especially after the doctor said an injury made him sterile. I, his only child, became his only hope. Even when Mom offered to leave with nothing but me, letting him visit whenever he wanted... He refused. Tears fell onto Mom's face in the photo. I lowered my head and kissed her forehead one last time. Suffocation wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. With my last breath, I whispered: "Goodbye, Mom." As my eyes closed, a memory of Mom kneeling before Dad flashed in my mind. "I beg you! Give me the child!" "You don't love us at all. Stop torturing us." She was crying so hard her thin shoulders shook violently. Dad looked at her with disgust: "How do I not love you?" "You're the one throwing away a good life!" "If you really loved our daughter, you'd give her a complete family!" "I will never give you my daughter!" Desperate and furious, Mom stood up and screamed at him: "You love her? Ha!" "Bullsh*t!" She hated it when Dad claimed to love me while neglecting me. Usually gentle, she exploded during their later fights, listing his sins one by one: "You love her? She was in the hospital for a week with pneumonia, and you didn't show your face once!" "What were you doing?! You took your mistress to see polar bears in Alaska!" "Not only did you not come back, you spent all our savings on that woman!" "You always wanted to know where the money for our daughter's treatment came from, right?" "I'll tell you! I sold myself! I slept with an old man for six hours! That's how your daughter got treated! Are you happy now?!" "I hate you! You don't love her! Stop lying!" "I birthed her through twenty-four hours of pain. Why can't I take her?!" 2 That day, I finally understood why Mom spent so long in the shower. The running water hid her sobs. Whenever I asked why she was crying, she'd smile and say I heard wrong. To stop Mom's pain, I begged Dad too: "Daddy, apologize to Mom. Stop making her cry." Dad frowned, picked me up, and wiped my tears. He glanced at Mom impatiently: "Stop acting crazy! You're scaring our daughter!" "I'm telling you one last time. Give me custody, and I'll sign the divorce papers right now." "Otherwise, we stay like this! Stop turning the house upside down over nothing." Mom wasn't willing to give up. She grabbed his arm, needing to vent: "Mark Zhou, you're not a man!" "You claim to love your daughter, but what have you done for her?" "You cook for your mistress's cats, but your five-year-old daughter has never eaten a meal you made!" "You even stole the birthday money I saved for her to buy premium cat food!" "You buy that woman clothes, bags, even clothes for her cat." "Have you bought a single piece of clothing for your daughter?" Scenes like this played out every few days. Every time, Dad would just say impatiently: "Go crazy if you want. No one cares!" All the arguments ended with Mom screaming alone like a madwoman. I cried snot and tears, secretly begging Dad: "Please divorce Mom. She has to take pills to sleep now." "She gets sick all the time, cries every day, and stops eating." "Daddy, even if I live with Mom, I'll still love you." "Please, Daddy, let me go with Mom. I don't want to see her in pain anymore." Dad's eyes reddened. He held back tears, stroking my face with his large hand. He whispered softly: "Mom is just throwing a tantrum." "Daddy can't bear to let you go with her. She has no job, she can't raise you." "We will always be a family, okay?" Mom heard this. From then on, the woman who had been a housewife for five years pulled herself together and found a job. Mom would cup my face, eyes full of hope: "Baby, once Mom's job is stable, I'll sue for divorce." "Once I have financial stability, the court will give you to me." "Give Mom a little time, okay?" I smiled and cheered her on every time. I learned from listening to adults that before having me, Mom was a brilliant, talented woman. She became a housewife to take care of me and Dad. In my memory, she worked from dawn to dusk. Cooking three meals a day. Keeping the house spotless. Caring for my sick grandparents. Whenever she had a moment, she read to me and played with me. I often saw her exhausted. After getting a job, she was even busier, leaving early and returning late. Dad complained: "For a stupid job, you neglect your family!" Mom, her heart dead to him, stopped arguing. She focused only on making money, getting that stable income proof to win my custody. 3 Dad didn't change at all. He would only hug me when he was in a good mood. Less than five minutes later, he'd put me down, smiling at his phone, texting that woman. When he was happy, he'd kiss my cheek and say: "I love my big girl so much." I couldn't remember any other warm moments with him. It was mostly him fighting with Mom, smashing things, and me crying in terror. Now, it's okay. I'm dead. They don't have to be deadlocked over my custody anymore. Mom came back at night. My soul was floating in the living room. "Baby, Mommy's home!" She dragged her suitcase in, looking travel-worn. In her left hand, she held a Capybara plushie and my favorite snacks. I instinctively ran to hug her, but I went right through her. My transparent soul passed through her body. I remembered then—I was already dead. Mom looked at the messy living room, instant noodle crumbs everywhere. Empty water bottles on the floor. A foul smell in the air. She wrinkled her nose, put down her suitcase, and walked in. Calling my name as she looked around: "Mumu? Mumu, Mommy's back." She muttered under her breath: "Only a few days and the house is a pigsty." "How does he take care of a child!" "And he wants to fight for custody like this!" I followed Mom, reaching out to hold her hand. Just like when I was alive, her big hand wrapping around my small one. But I couldn't feel her warmth anymore. I looked up at her face and said: "Mommy, I'm dead." "You can divorce Daddy now." "You don't have to fight anymore." She couldn't hear a thing. Not finding me in the living room, she went to the bedroom. She saw my small form tucked under the covers. A happy smile lit up her face. She tiptoed to the bed. She stared at me lovingly for a while, then blew me a gentle kiss, afraid to wake me. My nose stung, and tears fell like broken pearls. I cried, hugging Mom's leg. I knew clearly. In this world, she loved me the most. And I loved her the most. I wanted her to be free, but I was terrified that finding me dead would break her. In that moment, I understood why Mom always said: "You are my weakness." Back then, I always told her to leave Dad. Naively thinking that if she left, she wouldn't be sad or sleepless anymore. Every time, she would hug me tightly, heart aching. Determinedly telling me: "Mommy will definitely take you with me. Mommy won't leave her baby behind." But Mom, I'm sorry. I left you behind. She quietly closed the bedroom door. She walked to the bathroom farthest from my room to call Dad. It rang for a long time before connecting. She covered her mouth, scolding angrily: "Where the hell are you!" "Are you with that bitch again?!" "Mark Zhou, you are an animal!" "How could you leave our daughter home alone!" Afraid of waking me, she kept her voice low, her face red with rage. Dad's voice on the phone was as impatient as ever: "I have things to do too!" "Stop looking for trouble every day!" "Mumu is five years old. She's good, she can stay home alone!" "If you're so worried, quit your job and come back to watch her!" Beep. He hung up! 4 Mom angrily called back. But Dad had turned off his phone. She cried in frustration, clutching her chest, wiping tears again and again. Painful sobs twisted her face. She covered her mouth to suppress the sound. I hugged her, heart aching, coaxing her over and over: "Mommy, don't cry." "You can leave Daddy now." Her shoulders shook in my transparent embrace for a long time. Red-eyed, she started cleaning the messy house. Just like countless times before, silently doing chores. I followed her like a little shadow, just like when I was alive. Listening to her sniffle as she worked. I cried silently with her. After cleaning, she opened the fridge and found it empty. Just as she was about to cook for me, her boss called. He needed a proposal urgently. She immediately put down her work and opened her laptop in the living room. I lay on the table, watching her quietly. A while later, her phone rang again. It was Grandma. "You're wasting your youth! How long are you going to drag this out?" "It's not like you can't have more kids. Just give him Mumu and leave! Get divorced!" I had heard these words until my ears bled. Mom, as usual, replied firmly and impatiently: "Don't worry about my business. I won't give up Mumu." Grandma got angry: "You think I want to worry? Mark Zhou, that heartless man." "He mortgaged your house! He bought that mistress a diamond necklace!" "That woman came to show off in front of your dad and me! Your dad had a heart attack from anger!" "He's been in the hospital for five days! I didn't want to worry you!" Mom froze, thunderstruck. She didn't expect Dad to be so heartless. Her chest hurt suddenly, and she patted it weakly. After a few minutes of silence, she picked up her phone and called a man: "I can be your mistress, but I want a divorce. You have to help me get custody of my daughter." A man's cheerful agreement came from the other end. I suddenly remembered—this man was an old grandpa with white hair. Mom was so clean and proud. How could she be with an old man for me? I stomped my feet in anxiety: "Mommy, I'm dead! Go check on me in the room!" "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do for me anymore!" Mom stared blankly for a while until her phone vibrated again. Her boss urging her for the meeting. She hadn't eaten all day, her stomach hurt, but she only had time for half a glass of water. She grabbed her briefcase and rushed to the office, calling Dad on the way: "I'm going to the office. Get your ass back home and watch Mumu." "If I come back and find Mumu alone again, don't blame me for going to that mistress's mother's house and making a scene!" Dad never took Mom's threats seriously. He didn't come back until almost 9 AM the next day. Just as the kindergarten teacher called him: "Mumu's dad, Mumu's mom is busy, she asked me to call you." "Please bring Mumu to school today." Dad agreed: "Okay, I'll bring her now." Hanging up, he walked into the bedroom. Seeing me still under the covers. He playfully pretended to be a lion: "Which little kid is still in bed at 9 o'clock!" "I'm the big lion, let's see which lazy bones is sleeping in... is it little Mumu?" As he pulled back the covers, the smile vanished from his face instantly. All color drained away.
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