Chapter 14

It was our first conversation since the divorce that didn’t turn into an argument.

But it didn’t soften me.

When people understand their mistakes only after making them, it is often far too late.

Before Lunar New Year, his mother moved from the care home back to her own apartment.

Zhao Xue insisted that she sign an agreement splitting the care costs equally.

Her mother refused. Zhao Xue had taken her apartment, she said, and had to be responsible for her to the end.

Zhao Xue photographed the agreement and posted it in the family group.

“Mom gave me the apartment willingly. Care costs will be shared as we previously agreed. Nobody gets to dump everything on me.”

Her mother called her heartless in the chat.

Zhao Ming replied with one sentence.

“Follow the agreement.”

At that moment, nobody in the group mentioned my name.

At last, they were beginning to deal with their own problems.

At New Year, Zhao Ming came to collect the children.

He didn’t come in. He waited downstairs.

Zhao Nian handed him a box of dumplings.

“Mom made these. Take them home.”

He accepted it.

“Aren’t you going to see Grandma?”

“She said she doesn’t want to see us.”

“She hasn’t been in a good mood lately.”

“We know,” Zhao Heng said.

Zhao Ming looked at them.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

Zhao Nian thought for a moment.

“You did a lot of things wrong. But now you’re trying to put them right.”

His eyes reddened.

“Thank you.”

Zhao Heng added:

“Don’t make Mom give you her apartment again.”

Zhao Ming nodded.

“I won’t.”

I stood by the entrance, letting them take their time.

Before turning to leave, he suddenly spoke to me.

“Keep the property certificate safe.”

“I always have.”

“That loan agreement—Mom had someone make it.”

I looked at him.

“You’re admitting it now?”

“I knew she’d taken my old seal. I knew she’d had someone practice your signature several times. I didn’t stop her.”

“Why tell me now?”

“Because I don’t want the children to grow up thinking all I did was lose a lawsuit.”

I didn’t ask who had done it.

Through the examination report and the chain of evidence, my lawyer had already established what happened.

That was enough.

Zhao Ming took a key from his pocket.

“This is the keychain from your old phone. I found it while packing.”

I accepted it.

Some of the records on that phone had been recovered.

The deleted repayment notifications and the records of Dad’s transfers had also been retrieved through the bank.

The keychain was of no value anymore, but I kept it.

“Thank you.”

He stayed downstairs. He didn’t come up.

I closed the door and returned to the dining table.

The children had already divided up the dumplings.

“Mom,” Zhao Nian said, “Dad didn’t argue today.”

“No.”

“Does that mean he’s getting better?”

“People can change. They still have to live with the consequences.”

Zhao Heng put a dumpling in my bowl.

“Then let’s eat, Mom.”

I picked up my chopsticks.

The apartment was the same.

Mine was still the only name on the certificate.

When the marriage ended, I hadn’t moved out. I hadn’t given the main bedroom to anyone.

The children and I rebuilt our routine: work on time, school pickups on time, visits to my mother at weekends.

Zhao Ming transferred child support each month and occasionally helped them study.

His mother eventually accepted the care-home arrangements. He and Zhao Xue paid according to their agreement.

They still argued over the costs. But nobody came knocking on my door anymore.

I used to think holding on to an apartment meant nothing more than keeping a roof over our heads.

Later, I understood. The day I defended my right to my home, I also saved a little of the self-respect that marriage had worn down, time and again.

The children were doing homework in the living room.

Zhao Nian suddenly called out:

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

“What would you like?”

“Tomato and egg noodles.”

“Then let’s make them together.”

Zhao Heng took out three bowls. Zhao Nian went to wash the vegetables.

I stood in the kitchen and watched them lower the noodles into the pot.

My phone chimed.

A message from Zhao Ming.

“Thank you for letting the children see me today.”

I replied:

“You’re their father. This is your responsibility.”

For a long time, nothing came back.

I set the phone aside, turned down the heat, and ladled noodles into the children’s bowls.

Nobody asked when my mother-in-law was moving in.

Nobody told me to buy an expensive mattress.

This apartment had never owed the Zhao family a bed.

My children and I lived here, eating in peace and getting on with our lives.

After leaving a marriage that had gone wrong, I didn’t need to wait for anyone to bring me home.

I already had a home of my own.

(The End)