"Sign it, the child is mine, you take the money and leave."
On the day of the divorce, he threw the check in front of me, his eyes as cold as looking at a stranger.
I hid the pregnancy test sheet and nodded with a smile, but my eyes turned red when I turned around.
Five years later, I met him at the airport while holding a child who looked exactly like him.
He stared at the child's face and suddenly grabbed my wrist: "Whose child is this?"
I calmly shook off his hand: "Rang Rang, you are blocking the way of my child's father."
Behind him, a man who looked exactly like him gently took my luggage: "Honey, go home."
