I picked up my daughter from the neighbor's and brought her to the fruit shop with a thin blanket.

Angela looked worried, asking, "Mom, where's Dad going to stay tonight?"

I brushed her hair gently, placing her teddy bear in her arms. "He has somewhere to stay. Don't worry. Sleep now."

There was no extra bed in the shop, so I made do with a chair for the night.

Martin had asked me for money just days earlier, leaving me with little.

The previous house was definitely no longer habitable, but I didn't have enough to rent a place either.

Angela was still a child and she couldn't live here with me and suffer.

Memories flooded back of when Angela was three, and a debt collector threatened her, making her cry hysterically.

Martin knelt and begged until they let her go, and after they left, our house was in shambles.

That night, he kneeled until dawn, apologizing to me and our daughter, promising that he'd make things right and even give me a proper wedding once the debt was paid.

Back then, every coin was stretched.

Yet over the years, Martin would keep asking me for money.

He never thought about the situation that Angela and I would be in after giving the money to others to buy a house and renovate it.

...

When I woke up the next day, my waist and legs were sore and numb.

After a few moments, I managed to push through the discomfort and checked my phone, only to see a stream of messages. Oddly, the video I sent him had failed to deliver.

"We need a batch of wood urgently. Send me whatever money you have."

"I have something else to do. I'll send Grace to pick up four or five thousand, just to tide us over."

When I didn't respond, his tone turned hostile, "Gloria Jones! It's just a little water leaking—how long are you going to keep sulking?"

I looked at the sky outside and it was only five o'clock.

Normally, I'd already be at the shop by now, getting things ready and heading back by six-thirty to prepare breakfast and send Angela to school.

It was indeed a bit late now.

Seeing his early-morning messages full of complaints, I debated blocking him.

But he was still Angela's father, and we had a divorce to settle. There would still be things to work out.

Martin had once been a good person, but he had become unrecognizable to me.

I don't know if it's because we have a child that he didn't feel responsible for me.

Besides, even though finding a woman, he was not afraid of me running away, so he saw me as a cash machine that could be used to call and run.

The conflict between us was far from being explained by a leak.

I saved money to open a fruit shop, and he felt that I was starting to be out of control.

When I bought beautiful clothes and toys for Angela, he felt that I was hiding, not wanting to use the money to support him.

I knew nothing about his job, but he hired a young, beautiful, and understanding female assistant.

Once I turned cold and examined him, he covered his face in despair and said he's under a lot of pressure.

Martin always took our daughter as an excuse. After all, I am a feudal traditional woman and I hope my child can have a complete family.

But now, I finally realize that this is not possible. I cannot compromise for my child. This is not the life I want.

Even if I compromised, this would not be a normal home for Angela.

But just as I was about to go out, I saw Grace as soon as I opened the door.

As soon as she saw me come out, her face lit up with excitement. "Gloria, what a coincidence! I came to collect the money, and here you are."

My face turned cold instantly. "I don't have any money. If you need money, go find Martin."

Hearing this, Grace's expression soured.

"The company urgently needs the funds, don't be so stingy. My home decor is on hold waiting for it. If you keep stalling, I won't be able to move in before winter."

I couldn't help but laugh in exasperation. Remembering that Angela was still asleep, I blocked Grace at the door and lowered my voice.

"Your house has nothing to do with me. It's not like it's being bought for me."

Grace rolled her eyes, smugly pulling out a note and flashing it in front of me.

"See this? If you delay my renovations, and I'm not satisfied, I might not pay. Grand Decoration Company did promise a full refund if I'm not happy."

"Then go deal with Grand Decoration Company!"

She didn't care at all and headed straight for the fruit in my shop. "Got any fresh strawberries? I've been craving them lately. Oh, and slice up some of that Cat King durian. I mentioned I'd bring some for my friends to try."

I was so angry I could hardly speak.

Grace disdainfully grabbed a bag. "Fine, I guess your hearing's going as you get older. I'll just help myself."

She said this while helping herself, turning toward the register.

There wasn't much money in there, but there was no way I was letting her take any of it.

I slapped her out the door with a few strikes, and her fair, delicate face instantly turned red and swollen.

She stared at me in disbelief, getting up to fight back.

But Grace was no match for me, and I had her pinned in no time.

When I'd finally had enough, she lay on the ground sobbing uncontrollably, pointing a trembling finger at me.

"Gloria, you shameless old hag! I'll make you pay for this!"

Angela, who'd been watching, was already covering her mouth, too scared to say a word.

It took me a while to calm down and hold her in my arms to comfort her.

Angela's innocent, bewildered eyes looked up at me. "Mommy, did that sister come to ask for money again?"

"It's alright, don't worry about it."

There was a time when I was too busy to look after Angela, so I left her in Martin's care, only to discover one day that Grace had been mistreating her.

She would tug at Angela's little belly, demanding that she call her "sister," forcing Angela to say bad things about me.

Martin knew all about it, and he even seemed to approve.

He'd say, "Grace's not wrong. You're too soft with the kid. Keep it up, and I might just have her start calling Grace 'mom' instead."

After that, our arguments never stopped.

Sure enough, Grace wasted no time complaining.

Martin called, and his voice erupted in anger.

"Gloria, have you lost your conscience? How could you lay a hand on a young girl like Grace?"

I retorted without hesitation, "It wouldn't matter if it were you. I'd smack you too. Now get over here and sign the divorce papers!"

"Impossible. You're a menopausal maniac. You're just jealous of how young and beautiful Grace is, while you're nothing but a spiteful woman who doesn't know her place. Just wait till I'm back. I'll deal with you then."

I was fuming. "Bring it on! If you don't come, you're nothing but a coward!"

Honestly, Angela would be better off without a father like him. She might be better off with no father at all.

Angela came over and hugged my leg, pressing her little face against my hand. "Mommy, don't be mad."

Her face was soft and tender, though it had a slight yellowish tinge. Looking at her, I felt both tender and sorrowful.

After sending Angela to school, I returned to unload shipments and organize the fruit.

To save money, I worked alone no matter how busy the shop was.

Right now, even if I wanted to hire help, I couldn't spare the money.

And... I glanced around the shop. Soon, rent would be due again.

I'd been working from dawn till dusk these days, selling slightly overripe fruit at discounted prices. Thankfully, this was a university town, with the campus right next door.

With students passing by constantly, I could make a few hundred dollars a day.

Still, it was a drop in the bucket compared to the rent.

One morning a few days later, I went out to get breakfast for Angela, only to see Martin unexpectedly at a breakfast shop across the street.

He waved to me, and Angela, seeing him, clutched my finger in excitement and pointed at him, shouting, "Daddy!"

After helping Angela freshen up, she went across the street to the breakfast shop to eat. I locked up the shop, grabbed Angela's backpack, and followed her over, surprised to see he had ordered breakfast for me as well.

Martin was slurping his noodles, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Go ahead and eat. Still got work to do afterward."

There was no reason to refuse a free breakfast, but every bite reminded me of the house he'd bought for Grace.

I forced myself to finish it, but my stomach felt worse with every mouthful.

Noticing my silence, Martin hesitated, then spoke up. "Still upset, huh? Look, I was angry that day too. But you were wrong to hit Grace. She just took a bit of fruit, and it was me who asked for the money. If you're mad, take it out on me. Why make things hard for a young girl? She just really wants to move into her new place. See if you can help out with the décor while you're at it."

Afraid that I wouldn't be able to hold back and end up arguing with him, I wiped Angela's mouth and stood up with her. "Are you full, honey? If so, let's get you to school."

Just as we got up, Grace ran into the shop.

She clung to Martin's arm, whining at him flirtatiously. Despite the morning chill, she wore a low-cut top, leaning against him for warmth.

I looked away, intending to take Angela and leave.

But then I heard Grace say, "Martin, I really like this white wardrobe, but it doesn't quite match the wall color. Could you switch it out for that cocoa cream paint from the store?"

The store currently had only one can of paint, a custom mix that a client had paid a lot for, and was temporarily stored at the shop.

As I stared at him, Martin belatedly pulled away from Grace, saying, "Grace's just graduated. She's dependent on me, and a bit carefree. Don't take it to heart."

Grace shot me a taunting look.

Seeing the bruises she'd purposefully left visible on her skin, I swallowed the words I wanted to say, holding back my warning for his sake.

Angela looked at me with worry, carefully bidding goodbye to Martin as we left.

But he just rested his hand on Grace's shoulder, promising he'd change her wall to the cocoa cream color today.

Tears welled up in Angela's eyes. I scooped her up, patted her back, and silently took her with me.

After returning to the shop and getting ready to start my day, I saw Martin standing at the door.

The moment I saw his face, I froze, unsure what expression to wear.

He handed me a bucket of waterproof exterior paint.

"Your landlord just stopped by and said the rent is due. You could've just told me. It's not like I'm going to force you to cough up money. I've got work, so take this and coat it on yourself. Let me know if it's not enough."

I sighed helplessly, "Martin, have you gone back to check?"

Martin waved his hand dismissively, "What's there to check? Just put something on it. It'll work fine. If you don't know how, just find a tutorial online."

So, I knew then he hadn't bothered to see the mess at home.

It made sense. Every year around this time, he stayed at the office.

When the rainy season finally passed, he'd go home. By then, I'd already cleaned up the house.

Year after year, he turned a blind eye, so of course, he didn't think anything of it.

As the sun rose, he lifted his hand, using the sleeve of his white jacket to wipe his face and smeared a red lipstick stain across it.

Seeing the red smudge on his sleeve, it was obvious it was the shade Grace had on this morning.

Martin swallowed hard, chuckled awkwardly, and tried rubbing it off with his rough hand, only making the red stain spread.

I looked at him with a mocking gaze but didn't say a word.

He took off his jacket, giving it a shake, "Who knows when I got paint on this... Such a nice jacket, ruined."

The shop was bustling with people, and sweat poured down his face.

He accidentally caught the zipper on his pants, pulling out a pink lace panty stained with a sticky substance.

The second he realized it, he stomped on it, his face paling.

He opened his mouth, struggling to say something, "This... this is..."