Richard left with Sophia, and as they brushed past me, Sophia deliberately slammed into my shoulder.
Her lips moved, but she didn’t realize my left ear was already deaf.
I opened the door to my tiny rented apartment, where a yellow dog wagged his tail and bounded toward me.
“Lucky, I saw Dad today.”
I crouched down, ruffling his fur, and pulled a piece of ham from my pocket to feed him.
He wouldn’t eat. Instead, he leaned against me, licking my face anxiously.
“I’m not hurt. I was just so happy I tripped. Don’t worry.” Leaning against him, I counted softly on my fingers. “This month, I’ve seen Dad three times—twice on TV, and once today.”
I picked up the family photo from the table.
A tall father, a gentle mother, and me, perched on his shoulders.
We were smiling, so happy.
Holding the photo to my chest, I whispered, “Lucky, Dad must love me, right? He gave me you, and you’re the best. He’s just too busy.”
“I wonder if he drank the soup. I simmered it for so long.”
Lucky curled at my feet, whining softly in response.
I stood and hurried to the stove. “Forget it. He always forgets when he’s busy. I’ll just make another pot.”
The flame flared up, and a drop of blood fell into the pot.