At our daughter’s school acceptance banquet, my wife introduced her to a so-called godfather.

The moment I heard my daughter sweetly call another man “dad,” I didn’t hesitate to contact a top lawyer and had the divorce papers drawn up.

When I posted the divorce agreement to my social media feed, Maya Harris was in a fit of rage.

"I just found a godfather for our daughter, and you’re already throwing a tantrum about divorce?"

Even my daughter looked irritated. "Dad, you’re not young anymore. Can you stop acting so childish? Delete that post before you embarrass yourself."

Instead, I pinned the post.

"Call it childish or dramatic, I don’t care! This divorce is happening, no matter what will happen!"

——

With that, Maya’s voice rose sharply.

"Dylan Clark, do you really have to ruin the most important day of our daughter’s life?"

"Hurry up and delete that post before more people see it. If you don’t, don’t even think about getting on stage to give a speech."

Then, just like that, Maya and our daughter walked off, hand in hand, toward Alexander Hill and his son.

The host, seeing the four of them take the stage together, assumed they were one perfect family.

Every gaze at the banquet shifted toward me.

Someone even nudged me toward the stage.

“Hey, you’ve got it wrong! He’s the top scorer’s real father!”

The host quickly apologized and eagerly tried to usher me up. Still, Maya stepped in, shoved me aside, and grabbed the microphone for herself.

“Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend my daughter’s school banquet. Ivy was able to become the top scorer, all thanks to Alexander’s dedicated tutoring. My daughter and I are incredibly grateful to him! You could say, without him, there would be no glory for us!”

“So from today on, Alexander is Ivy’s godfather.”

She pulled the boy standing next to Alexander to her side.

“And from now on, Alexander’s son will be my godson. I’ll be a proud mother of both a son and a daughter!”

Tears filled her eyes as she spoke, her voice heavy with emotion.

But when she turned to me, there was not a shred of warmth in her teary gaze.

“Dylan, what kind of father are you? Aren’t you going to come thank Ivy’s godfather?”

She had shoved me off the stage earlier, and now she was acting like she was doing me a favor by telling me to offer tea to Alexander.

With a wide grin, Alexander laughed and said he didn’t deserve such treatment, then jogged over, threw an arm around my shoulder, and whispered with a smirk, "Brother Dylan, you really need to control Maya. How could she make you serve me tea? Anyone watching might think you're a waiter!"

I ignored the mockery in his eyes and tried to shake off his arm.

Somehow, he stumbled and fell off the stage.

There was a sharp rip as his shirt tore, revealing half his back. He cried out in exaggerated panic, "Brother Dylan, I wasn’t trying to steal your spotlight! Why humiliate me like this?"

Maya and our daughter immediately rushed to his side.

Their eyes landed on me, as if accusing me of things I had not even done.

I instinctively opened my mouth to explain, "I didn’t do anything..."

But Maya slapped me hard across the face.

"Exactly. You didn’t do anything, so what?! We’re all blind now?!"

Even as the guests whispered and the scene spiraled into chaos, she remained unfazed. She simply took Alexander to change into a fresh outfit and returned as if nothing had happened.

But the moment I caught sight of the emerald pendants around their necks, the sting on my face vanished.

I stepped forward, voice tight. "How could you give them that emerald?"

To make Hannah feel completely loved, Maya had once endured a five-month pregnancy termination, our second child, the boy we had longed for. That child had remained our greatest sorrow for years.

Crushed by guilt, Maya had once climbed the long steps of God the Father Church on her knees to light an eternal lamp for him. She had even spent a fortune commissioning an emerald cross pendant in his memory.

And now, that very pendant hung from the neck of Alexander’s son.

The leftover emerald, carved from the same stone, had been turned into a delicate ornament, yet now worn by Alexander himself.

Maya slapped my hand away without a hint of patience.

"You messed everything up, and I still covered for you. And now you think you’re the one in the right?"

Hannah followed her lead, shoving me with a frown.

"Exactly! Dad, you totally embarrassed me today! You already made it so Mom can’t give birth to a younger brother, now you won’t even let her give me a godbrother?"

Right after saying that, she beamed and pulled out two carefully wrapped gifts, handing them to the father and son.

Then, with practiced grace, she brought over the prepared tea set and began the ceremony.

"Godfather, little brother, drink this tea. From today on, we’re one family."

Alexander teared up, but even in that moment, he didn’t forget to shoot me a smug glance.

Just then, a few late-arriving relatives, clueless to the chaos, tugged at my arm and whispered with excitement, "Dylan, come on, tell your auntie what big surprise your wife and Ivy prepared for you? We’re all dying to see it!"

I stared at the heartwarming scene in front of me, the smiles, the gifts, the tea still steaming in their hands.

So this was the grand gift they had prepared for me.

For this family, I had worked myself to the bone, juggling a full day’s job, then rushing home to cook, do the laundry, and help with homework.

Year after year, I stood by Hannah’s side, helping her rise to become one of the top students who earned her way into Tufts University.

And now, with just a few careless words, mother and daughter handed all my years of effort to another man, like it meant nothing.

The relatives, oblivious to the shift in my expression, clapped and cheered to lighten the mood, calling for me to say a few words on stage.

Maya, in the middle of fixing Alexander’s tie, paused and turned to look at me. Her gaze was cold and unfeeling.

And when our eyes met, I understood everything.

If I didn’t delete that post, she wouldn’t let me have even a moment of peace tonight.

So, just as she wanted, I got up and walked out of the banquet hall.

A few relatives, now reading my divorce post on their phones, rushed after me, calling out in disbelief.

"Dylan, come on! It’s a celebration! What’s this nonsense about divorce?"

"Just because your wife gave Ivy a godfather?"

"Looks like they’re just making space for their perfect little family of four."

Leaving those words behind, I walked out without looking back.

Seeing me humiliated in front of everyone, Hannah, hot-blooded in her youth, grabbed the microphone and shouted, "Dylan Clark! I only took a godfather and a godbrother! Do you have to make such a scene? If you walk out of this hall, don’t blame me for not calling you Dad anymore!"

The daughter I had poured my soul into raising had just called me by my full name and threatened to cut me off.

It felt like something had been ripped straight out of my chest, deep, raw, and bleeding.

I swallowed the sting behind my eyes and answered loudly, "Fine. Then I’ll act like I never had a daughter."

Ignoring the cries behind me, I turned and walked away, quickening my pace.

On the way home, my phone buzzed with a push notification, a livestream from the top scorer’s school banquet.

My chest tightened. I tapped into it without thinking.

And there he was, Alexander, beaming in front of the camera, calling himself my daughter’s father, warmly greeting guests, and even sharing parenting advice with the reporters who had just arrived.

Alexander smiled warmly at the camera, his hand resting naturally on Hannah’s shoulder.

Hannah stood beside him, wearing a tender smile I had never seen her give me, not even once.

She even leaned in slightly, making it easier for him to drape his arm around her, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Off to the side, Maya watched them quietly, her face soft with warmth and affection.

That gaze used to be mine.

But ever since Alexander and his son returned to the country, I could hardly remember the last time she looked at me like that.

"Dad, look at the camera!"

Hannah reminded him with a cheerful smile.

That word, “Dad”, slipped from her lips so effortlessly, like she’d said it a thousand times before.

The livestream chat instantly lit up.

[What a picture-perfect family! You can feel the love through the screen!]

[Quick, group photo please! I need a screenshot for my lock screen—this family is my new emotional support.]

Maya and Hannah stood protectively beside Alexander and his son, the four of them forming heart shapes with their hands for the camera.

They stood close, smiling brightly, a picture-perfect image of a warm, loving family.

Suddenly, a reporter pushed to the front, microphone raised.

“We’d like to invite Mr. Hill to appear on our TV station’s special program featuring top-scoring families. Would you be willing to share your parenting experience?”

Alexander glanced modestly at Maya. “Oh, I’m not sure that’s appropriate. After all, I’m just the godfather…”

Before he could finish, Hannah cut in, firm and loud.

“Who said you’re just a godfather? In my heart, you’re a thousand times better than my real dad! You have to go on the show, Dad!”

Maya nodded in full agreement.

“Ivy is right. This is an honor you’ve earned. When the time comes, she and I will go with you to record the show.”

That one sentence sliced through me like a blade, swift and merciless.

I turned off the livestream, my fingers trembling as they swiped over the screen again and again before finally closing it.

The driver, noticing my expression, misunderstood my silence for something simpler. He offered a kind voice of comfort.

“Brother, don’t be too hard on yourself. Every child has their fate. No matter how good other people’s kids are, they’re still not ours.”

I forced a smile but couldn’t bring myself to say it, that the top scorer everyone envied was the daughter I had raised with my own hands.

After stepping out of the car, the rain slapped against my face. I couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears. Either way, everything tasted bitter.

Back home, I peeled off my soaked jacket and walked into the study.

This room used to be our battleground.

From elementary school to high school, I stayed up with her in this very room every night.

The walls were still lined with her award certificates. The shelves still held the hundreds of mistake booklets I had compiled over the years.

I pulled one out at random and flipped through it, each page filled with my handwriting.

Every test error she made, I had sorted and analyzed. I pinpointed her weaknesses and created targeted exercises, one after another.

I had even self-studied the entire high school curriculum, so that I could answer her questions without delay.

My fingers brushed over the now-yellowed pages. What once stood for love now felt like a monument to my foolishness.

Inside the desk drawer lay a family photo of the three of us.

Hannah was still a child, nestled between Maya and me, all of us smiling like the world had never known pain.

Back then, who could’ve imagined it would come to this?

I grabbed the photo and all the mistake booklets, tossing them one by one into the fireplace.

Flames roared to life. Eighteen years of dedication, twenty years of marriage—let it all turn to ash.

"Dylan! What are you doing?!"

Maya’s furious voice rang out from the doorway.

But I didn’t stop. I kept feeding the fire.

Hannah rushed in and caught sight of the burning materials. Her face changed instantly.

"Dylan, are you insane?! Those are my mistake books! That’s everything I worked for in my senior year!"

"My godfather’s going on a TV show soon. He was going to use those! Are you really that jealous? You’d burn them just to humiliate him?"

For a brief second, I thought she was angry because she recognized the effort I had poured into those books.

But no—she only cared that her godfather now had nothing to show off with.

"Yes, I’m crazy!"

"I made those mistake booklets. I have every right to destroy them!"

Something flickered in Hannah’s eyes. Her rage stalled just for a second.

"So what if you made them?" she snapped. "The one who really helped me get into Tufts University was my godfather, not you!"

"I can’t believe how petty you are over something so small! No wonder Mom looks at you with disgust every time!"