For the ninety-ninth time, my husband walked out on me and our daughter to go play "stand-in dad" to the kid of his single-mom ex.

Afterward, like always, he wired me $5.20 and called it an apology.

He said the boy had grown up without a father, that it was a pitiful thing, that he was just doing the decent thing and helping out.

For three years I never screamed, never fought. I just quietly saved every one of those ninety-nine ugly little transfer receipts.

I told myself that if I was understanding enough, patient enough, he'd eventually bring his heart back home.

Until today. The preschool's Father's Day event.

He'd promised our daughter weeks ago that he would absolutely be there. Then, the morning of, he vanished. His phone wouldn't connect.

And while I sat there, I found him in the social media photo grid post his ex had just put up.

The caption read: 【Best Dad Ever】.

My five-year-old daughter, clutching the handmade tie she'd spent a whole week on, tipped her face up at me and asked:

"Mommy, is it true that whenever that boy cries, Daddy goes and becomes his daddy?"

"So if I stay good and never cry or make a fuss, does that mean someday… I won't even have a pretend daddy?"

Looking at the tears in her eyes, those ninety-nine transfers I'd hoarded for three years suddenly made me sick to my stomach.

I crouched down and pulled her into my arms, and softly said:

"No, baby."

"Starting today, we don't want this pretend daddy."

And we never will again.

——

The preschool's main hall was packed wall to wall.

Today was the Father's Day event.

Right then, she sat on a little stool hugging that tie, eyes glued to the front doors, not blinking once.

I checked the time. The program had been running for fifteen minutes already.

First call. No answer.

Second call. Still no answer.

Third, fourth, fifth.

The receiver gave me nothing but that cold, mechanical woman's voice:

"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."

The mom in the next seat lowered her voice and asked:

"Vivien's daddy not here yet?"

I dragged up a smile.

"Stuck in traffic. He'll be here any minute."

Vivien heard it and looked up at me, her eyes brightening for a second.

"Mommy, is Daddy really on his way?"

"Mm. Almost here."

She nodded obediently and tucked the tie behind her back, careful not to let the kid beside her touch it.

Up on the stage, the host was already calling the third family to perform.

My palms were soaked.

I fired off message after message. Every one of them sank like a stone.

My phone screen suddenly lit up.

"Your friend Dorothy Henson has posted an update."

My finger slid across the screen, and for some reason I tapped right in.

A nine-photo grid.

The first picture: in front of a carousel at an amusement park.

Zachary Gilbert had a little boy hoisted up on his shoulders, the kid laughing wide enough to show two missing front teeth.

The second: at a cotton candy stand, Zachary crouched down, handing the boy a cone.

The third: in a bumper car, the two of them crammed into one little ride, pulling faces.

I scrolled through them one by one.

Every single one was father and son in the same frame.

The caption was three words——

【Best Dad Ever.】

The timestamp said forty minutes ago.

Forty minutes ago.

That was right when I'd been making my third call.

"Next up, family number seven——Vivien Fox and her daddy!"

The host's voice rang out from the speakers.

The whole room went quiet for a beat.

Vivien shot to her feet, gripping the tie, ready to run up to the stage.

Two steps in, she stopped and turned back to look at me.

"Mommy, where's Daddy?"

"Daddy…"

I couldn't get the words out.

"Where's Vivien's daddy? Why didn't he come?"

The host leaned down toward the mic and asked.

From below, a child's voice piped up.

"Vivien doesn't have a daddy!"

"Her daddy doesn't want her!"

"Hahaha."

Vivien stood frozen halfway up the steps.

She dropped her head, lips pressed tight.

Her small hand crushed the red tie until it lost its shape.

I saw her shoulders shaking.

I shot to my feet.

A few quick steps and I was on the stage, crouching down, pulling her into my arms.

"Mommy's here."

"Mommy's right here."

Vivien didn't sob, but the tears came down in fat drops, splashing against my arm.

I lifted her up and reached toward the host.

"Give me the microphone."

The host blinked, then handed it over.

I took it.

"Hi, everyone. I'm Vivien's mom."

"Vivien's dad had something come up at work today. He couldn't make it."

"But that's okay. Because I love Vivien more than he does."

I looked down at her and kissed her forehead.

"Sweetheart, will you put the tie on Mommy?"

Vivien stared for a few seconds, then nodded.

With trembling hands, she looped the crumpled paper tie around my neck.

A few parents in the crowd started to clap.

When the performance ended, I led Vivien down off the stage.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

Zachary had sent me $5.20.

The note read: Thanks for all your hard work, babe. I'll make it up to you tonight.

It was his hundredth transfer.

Three years. A hundred of them.

Every missed event, every broken promise, every disappearance ended with this same number.

I pressed the screen dark and took my daughter's hand, walking us toward the door.

Vivien tilted her face up, her eyes still red.

"Mommy, is it true that every time that boy cries, Daddy goes and is his daddy?"

My steps stopped.

"So if I stay good and never cry, will I end up without even a pretend daddy someday?"

In that instant, something inside my chest clenched tight.

I crouched down and held her.

"No, baby. That won't happen."

"Starting today, we don't want this pretend daddy anymore."

By the time the event let out, it was pouring outside.

The other parents drifted off in twos and threes under their umbrellas, and the cars in the lot pulled out one after another.

I hadn't brought an umbrella.

Zachary had said he'd drive over and pick us up, so I hadn't bothered.

How laughable.

I stood under the eaves holding Vivien and opened my phone to call an Uber.

In the queue. Estimated wait: twelve minutes.

The rain came down harder, and Vivien burrowed against me and sneezed.

A black sedan turned in through the curtain of rain and rolled to a slow stop at the bottom of the steps.

Zachary rolled down the window and waved at me.

"Hurry, get in. The rain's too heavy."

There was a smile on his face.

Vivien's grip suddenly tightened, her whole body shrinking behind me.

"Mommy, I don't want to get in the car."

Her voice was tiny.

Zachary didn't hear it.

He pushed open the door and came over under his umbrella.

A white paper bag dangled from his hand.

"I brought Vivien a cake. Strawberry, her favorite."

He held the bag out in front of me.

I didn't take it.

I stared at the collar of his coat.

There was a gold sticker stuck to it.

Exactly the same as the one from that amusement park in Dorothy's social media post.

He followed my gaze, glanced down, and peeled the sticker off without a word.

"Jake spiked a high fever today. He was crying and carrying on, insisting I come."

He said it smoothly, not even a flicker in his eyes.

"I was at the hospital all afternoon. Just left."

"The hospital?"

I spoke up.

"Mm."

"Which one? What department did you check in to?"

For half a second, Zachary's expression went stiff.

"The ER. Pediatric ER."

"A kid burning up with a fever, and you take him to an amusement park?"

The smile finally slid off his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I pulled out my phone, brought up the screenshot of Dorothy Henson's post, and held it in front of him.

"See for yourself."

Zachary took the phone, glanced at it, and his throat bobbed.

"June, is all this really necessary?"

"So I watched someone's kid for one afternoon. What's the big deal? That boy doesn't have a father. It's pitiful."

"Your daughter didn't have a father today either."

I said.

"While she was standing on that stage getting laughed at by her whole class for not having a dad, you were buying another kid cotton candy."

His face changed.

"Here we go again, right? You're starting this nonsense again."

"I was just being kind, helping someone out. Can you stop blowing every little thing out of proportion?"

He reached out to scoop up Vivien.

"Come on, Daddy's taking you both home. Don't stand here getting rained on."

Vivien shrieked and locked her arms around my neck.

"No! I'm not going with him!"

Zachary's hand froze in midair.

"Vivien?"

"You're not my daddy! You're the brother's daddy!"

Zachary's face flushed red.

"That's ridiculous! Did your mom teach you to say that?"

"June, don't push it too far."

I stepped back, putting distance between us.

"Zachary."

"Let's get divorced."

"Tomorrow. The county clerk's office."

He went blank.

Standing there in the rain, holding the umbrella, and then he laughed.

"What did you say? Divorce?"

"You want a divorce just because I did somebody a favor?"

"June, do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?"

He took a step forward.

"What are you going to do without me? Raise a kid alone?"

"You don't even have a job."

Headlights flashed twice behind him.

The ride I'd called had arrived.

I didn't say another word.

I turned, pulled open the back door, and climbed in with Vivien in my arms.

"We can go, please."

The car pulled away, and Zachary was still standing where I'd left him.

We were home soon enough.

I carried Vivien up the stairs.

I was reaching for my keys when I noticed the door wasn't locked.

I remembered throwing both deadbolts when I left this morning.

I pushed the door open. The entryway light was on.

Three pairs of unfamiliar shoes sat scattered by the shoe cabinet.

A pair of women's heels, a pair of kids' sneakers, and a pair of fuzzy slippers.

Those fuzzy slippers were mine.

The limited edition I'd bought and never let myself wear.

Every light in the living room was on, and the coffee table was buried under snack wrappers.

Vivien's building blocks were strewn across the floor, the couch cushions dragged down onto the carpet.

The TV was on, playing a cartoon.

Then I saw Dorothy.

She was wearing my silk pajamas, her hair pinned up high, walking out of the kitchen with a plate of sliced fruit.

When she saw me, she blinked.

"Oh, you're back?"

She smiled and set the plate down on the coffee table.

"Traffic was bad, huh? I cut up some fruit for you two. Sit, sit."

What was she doing in my home?

I was about to ask when Vivien suddenly tore free of my hand and rushed inside.

"Mommy!"

I followed where she ran. Dorothy's son, Jake Abbott, had a black marker in his hand and was scribbling all over Vivien's drawing board.