My wife doesn’t love me, and she loves the child we had together even less.
On the day our son was born, she didn’t even look at him before placing him in my arms.
Later, the man she had always cherished returned from abroad.
For the first time, the usually cold woman got blackout drunk at home, smiling as she held our child in her arms.
Our son excitedly wrapped his arms around her neck and quietly asked me:
“Daddy, what’s wrong with Auntie?”
I crouched down and pulled him into my arms, explaining with reddened eyes:
“The person Auntie likes has come back, so we shouldn’t bother her anymore. We’re going to move away.”
