On Children's Day.

The gift my husband gave our daughter was a "heart" shaped out of the leftover white rice from his lunch.

Meanwhile, the poor mother and son he sponsored received a whole luxury riverside apartment.

Roberta Simmons showed it off on her social media feed:

【Thank you to my wonderful big brother for the gift you gave my son. Kevin loves it so much.】

My husband was the first to comment.

【A good environment helps a child grow. It's a joy to help others, so don't give it a second thought.】

Something bitter twisted in my chest.

Ever since my husband started supporting Roberta and her son, my daughter and I had been living in poverty.

Our home was faculty housing without even a bathroom of its own.

The clothes my daughter wore were secondhand finds from the thrift market.

My skincare was the freebie samples Roberta didn't want.

I'd argued with him about it more times than I could count, but he always put on that noble, righteous face.

"Roberta has it hard enough raising her son alone. Helping them is a good deed."

"Besides, poor kids grow up faster. A little hardship will toughen our daughter up!"

"Every other man's wife can handle hard work and hardship. Why are you the only one who makes a fuss?"

My daughter held back her tears, still forcing a smile to comfort me.

"Cynthia Delgado's really happy. Cynthia loves everything Daddy gives me."

Watching my daughter swallow her hurt to keep the peace, my heart went completely cold.

I quietly tapped "like" on Roberta's post.

This cheap kind of love, I didn't want it anymore.

……

The door slammed open with a bang.

Hubert Delgado stormed in, his shirt collar yanked open.

He pointed at me and yelled:

"What's gotten into you? Who said you could like her post?"

"Roberta thought you were angry. She felt so guilty she cried, and now she flat-out refuses to take the apartment I bought her."

"You won't be satisfied until you've driven a widow and her son out onto the street, will you?"

The more he talked, the more worked up he got.

The next second, his arm shot up.

He flipped the whole battered, paint-chipped old wooden table over.

Crash—

The white rice smashed across the concrete floor, grains scattering everywhere.

My daughter flinched, her whole body shaking with fright.

She clamped her hands over her ears and hid behind me, sobbing.

Hubert froze, some of the clarity coming back into his eyes.

Then he shot me a look of disgust:

"It's a holiday, and you just have to make everyone miserable!"

"Always looking for trouble!"

I let my cold gaze sweep over the mess on the floor. My voice was soft, but it carried a bone-deep chill:

"So this is your daughter's Children's Day gift?"

"Leftover white rice."

Hubert's eyes darted away, a flash of guilt crossing his face.

But an instant later he stiffened his neck again, putting on that same self-righteous show.

"What's wrong with white rice? It's your materialistic nonsense that's spoiled the two of you rotten!"

"Do you have any idea how many kids in the mountains never taste a single bite of white rice their whole lives?"

"I'm tempering her spirit!"

"Or should I raise our daughter to be like you, some greedy woman who only knows how to take?"

I stared blankly at this man I'd loved for seven years.

Suddenly he felt like a stranger.

There had been a time when he remembered the desserts I loved.

When he'd secretly prepare a princess dress for Cynthia's birthday.

But ever since three years ago.

Ever since he started supporting Roberta, we hadn't had a single good day in this house.

To pay off Roberta's debts, he sold our three-bedroom place in the city.

He moved our daughter and me into an old school dormitory without a private bathroom.

To save money for limited-edition sneakers for Roberta's son.

Every piece of clothing he gave Cynthia was a secondhand thrift-market find, one outfit worn for three years straight.

To buy Roberta luxury skincare, everything I used was the freebie sample sachets she'd tossed aside.

All these years.

Every last cent that came into our home had become what he called a "good deed," his charitable offering.

It all flowed straight into the pockets of that woman and her son.

Every time I argued with him, he trotted out the same righteous speech:

"It's so hard for Roberta, raising a child alone. If they have to scrape by, it'll stunt little Kevin's growth."

"You and our daughter have me to look after you. Don't take your blessings for granted."

"We're building good karma and a good name right now. Hardship first, sweetness later."

He collected his reputation as a great and generous man.

Roberta and her son got the money and the favoritism.

And every bit of the suffering and the swallowed grievance was left to me and our daughter.

At the thought, the bitterness inside me hardened completely.

Seeing me silent for so long, Hubert probably assumed his words had won me over.

His tone eased.

He fished something out of his briefcase and handed it to me.

"All right. I know you're petty and vain, so I brought you a gift."

I looked down.

A half-used bottle of face wash, squeezed nearly flat, without even its outer packaging.

One look and you could tell it was somebody's discarded trash.

"Roberta says she doesn't care for this brand. She only used it a few times, so it's basically new."

"Just make do with it. That way I don't have to give her money for another one."

He said it with the air of a man bestowing charity, as if I'd come out way ahead.

In his eyes, I was supposed to be grateful even for other people's garbage.

The last shred of feeling left in my heart shattered in that moment.

I drew a breath and lifted my eyes to him.

"Hubert, let's get a divorce."

"Let's get a divorce."

My gaze was cold.

My voice so calm it surprised even me.

Hubert visibly froze.

He clearly hadn't expected me to say it. A flicker of panic crossed his face.

He stepped forward to take my hand, but I turned aside and slipped free.

"Honey..."

He frowned, a little frantic, and was about to speak.

His phone suddenly rang.

The ringtone was unmistakable, the special one he'd set just for Roberta.

I laughed at myself inside.

I'd once pestered him to set a special ringtone for me, and he'd been so annoyed.

"Playing these childish little games all day. How immature can you get!"

"I'm a university professor! I won't let you ruin the dignity of an educated man."

I'd thought he was just born stiff and old-fashioned.

Only now did I understand. He simply wasn't willing to make an exception for me.

Hubert glanced at the screen, and his expression turned nervous and tender all at once.

He hurried to answer and stepped out the door.

I could faintly hear him coaxing her in a lowered voice: "Don't cry, Hubert's wife was only joking..."

"I'm coming over to be with you two right now. I'll take little Kevin to the amusement park..."

A few minutes later, he hung up and came back in, his face composed again.

"Something's come up at the school. I have to go."

"What you said earlier, I'll pretend I never heard it. And no more throwing around the word 'divorce' when you're angry."

He shot me a frown, then left without looking back.

Hubert didn't come home all night.

The next day, I got a divorce agreement drawn up by a lawyer.

I was clutching the folder on my way to pick our daughter up from school.

Only to be told that Cynthia had already been picked up by her father.

"Mr. Delgado said he took the day off specially to make up Children's Day with Cynthia. Said they were going out for a big meal."

I let out a cold laugh inside.

So today of all days, he'd suddenly remembered he had a daughter.

I followed the address he'd given and found an upscale buffet restaurant.

But the sight in front of me left me frozen where I stood.

Hubert sat at the head of the table, Roberta on his arm, the two of them laughing and chatting away.

Around the table sat several of his so-called charity-circle friends.

They clinked glasses, laughing and trading easy conversation.

And underneath the table, a small figure was hunched down.

It was my daughter!

She had no chair. She crouched on the floor, clutching an empty bowl to her chest like an outsider who didn't belong.

Above her, the adults held forth on grand topics, tossing their leftover bones and scraps down under the table without a second thought.

Cynthia didn't dare say a word. She only picked the pieces up, careful and quiet.

Swallowing back her tears, she placed them in her own bowl.

Someone teased with a grin, "Professor Delgado, your girl here is really well-behaved. Not a picky bone in her body."

Hubert let out a couple of hearty laughs, his tone edged with self-satisfaction.

"Kids shouldn't be coddled. What's wrong with eating a few leftovers? Learning to value food is a good thing."

Roberta chimed in softly, "That's right. Cynthia's the sweetest. Not like our Kevin Acevedo, he's such a fussy eater."

Hubert, on the other hand, scooped Kevin up doting.

"A boy this age is still growing. He should eat plenty of the good stuff to build himself up."

"Our Kevin's just blessed with a good appetite. Don't be so hard on the boy."

I stood outside the window, and every drop of blood in me ran cold.

This was the feast he'd promised his daughter?

Making his own flesh and blood crouch in a corner, eating the scraps a room full of strangers had thrown away?

And then, in that moment.

Roberta's son, when no one was watching, crouched down.

He grabbed a fistful of Cynthia's hair and snarled viciously,

"You filthy little beggar!"

"Mommy says you and your mom are both beggars, always stealing my daddy's money! Shameless!"

Cynthia trembled with the pain, her eyes flooding red in an instant.

But she bit her lip and didn't dare cry.

In that single moment, the last thread holding me together snapped clean through.

"Let go of her!"

I rushed over in a few strides and flung Kevin off with a sweep of my arm.

My gaze swept coldly over him.

"Did no one ever teach you what manners are?"

The laughter around the table cut off all at once.

Hubert saw it was me, and shock crossed his face first.

His hand slipped instinctively from Roberta's arm.

Then he laughed it off, playing it light.

"I was surprising Cynthia to make things up to her. Perfect timing, you're here. Sit with us."

"A surprise?"

I laughed, furious.

I picked up the bowl of bones and leftover scraps and slammed it down in front of him.

"Hubert, this is how you treat your own daughter?"

"Crouching on the floor like a dog, eating other people's garbage, and getting called a beggar to her face on top of it?"

Hubert's face flushed a deep, blotchy red in an instant.

Maybe because he'd lost face in front of his friends, his voice shot up sharply.

"I'm teaching her to value food!"

"What's wrong with building frugal habits from a young age?"

"You think you're too precious for this? You just had to come here and make a scene!"

I looked at his face, still righteous as ever.

I listened to the people around us sneering at me like I was some clown.

And suddenly it all felt utterly pointless.

Seven years of devotion, reduced to a joke.

I threw the divorce papers in his face.

"Hubert, sign them."

"I'm done living this life with you."

The whole room went dead silent for a beat.

Then it erupted into an even more grating burst of laughter.

"No way, Professor Delgado, your wife's actually serious?"

"Making a fuss at home is one thing, but dragging it out here in public? How trashy."

Hubert stared at the papers on the table, his face darkening first.

Then one corner of his mouth curled into a contemptuous smile.

He reached out, took the papers, and tore them to shreds in a few quick motions.

"I give you a few days of decent treatment and you actually start thinking you're somebody?"

His contempt was undisguised.

"Ebony, don't you forget what kind of trash you are."