He Took His Son, I Took My Daughter

My daughter has a summer assignment where she needs her parents to accompany her to check in at a museum and record a video.

But throughout the summer, my husband, John Foster, kept making excuses, saying he was too busy with work.

As the school term approached, and I saw my daughter anxiously unable to sleep, I helplessly suggested,

"How about I go with you to check in, sweetheart?"

My daughter, trying to hide her disappointment, nodded obediently.

But when my daughter and I arrived at the museum, we saw John with his first love, holding a little boy's hand, standing in front of a professional camera crew.

"Hello, everyone, I’m Ben’s father..."

My daughter and I froze in place as a staff member approached us.

"Sorry, this afternoon the museum has been booked exclusively for an event. Please come back tomorrow."

I clenched my fists tightly; this morning, he had told me he was leaving for a three-day business trip.

"Mom, isn't Dad really busy with work? How can he be here?"

I looked at my daughter, biting her lip, tears welling up in her eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

"Isn't Dad mine? Why is he someone else's dad?"

I didn’t know how to answer my daughter's question. My gut feeling told me John had been cheating.

The staff member, seeing we were motionless, stepped forward to pull us away.

My daughter tripped and scraped her knee on the rough stone pavement, blood oozing out in a large patch.

After days of anxiety and frustration, my daughter couldn’t hold back and started crying.

John caught sight of me through the crowd, his eyes wide with surprise, instinctively walking towards us.

"Do you know them?"

"Dad, I’m so thirsty after filming. Can I have ice cream?"

John looked away from us, gently smiling at the mother and son in front of him.

"I don't know them. They're just strangers!"

"Let’s go, let’s get ice cream!"

He picked up the boy, holding hands with the woman beside him, and walked past us without looking back.

After accompanying him through the lows of his life for eight years, all I received was a dismissive "strangers."

My daughter stared at John’s back, gasping for air as she cried.

"Mom, why did Dad say he doesn't know us?"

"What did I do wrong that made Dad not want me?"

My heart ached deeply, and I carefully avoided her injury, holding her close.

Gradually, my daughter stopped crying, barely eating any dinner, silent and staring out the window.

I closed the door and called my lawyer.

"Please draft a divorce agreement for me."

The sound of the door opening reached me, and John hummed a tune as he walked in.

My daughter forced a smile and ran out to take slippers off the rack for him.

"Dad, you’re back..."

John smiled, looking at his phone, casually replying with a nonchalant "Hmm."

My daughter held up her summer assignment in front of him.

"Dad, can you come with Mom and me to the museum to film the video?"

John didn’t even glance at it, pushing the paper aside, irritated.

"Work’s been a bit busy lately. I’ll come when I have time."

"When will you have time? If you don’t go now, I’ll be going back to school soon."

My usually sensible daughter stubbornly sought an answer.

While we were at a stand-off, the doorbell rang, and John excitedly opened it, bringing in a cake.

He finally put down his phone and waved at my daughter standing beside him.

"I know you were upset today, so I got you a cake. Come try it!"

My daughter instantly cheered up, running to open my door.

"Mom, come out, Dad bought us cake!"

She took the cake from John, biting into it eagerly.

"Dad is the best dad in the world..."