"Your mom is ridiculous! It was just a colleague on the trip, and her son insisted on going. I went along for a bit. Why blow it out of proportion?"
I focused on my meal, ignoring him.
Unable to contain himself anymore, my dad dropped the pretense. "Fine! Then let's end this. Call your mom now—I want a divorce!"
In the past, I used to look forward to having dinner with my dad.
He always claimed to be busy with work, having no time for me. The rare occasions when he took me and my mom out for a meal were times I cherished.
But later, I realized every time he said he was on a business trip, he was actually spending time with his mistress and her son.
It dawned on me that he only didn't have time for us.
I looked at my dad, now furious and fuming, and felt a mix of bitterness and irony.
This would be the last meal we ever had together.
Just then, a familiar figure approached us.
It was the mistress.
She swayed her hips as she walked over, looking down at me with a smug smile. "Mr. Jones, the dishes in the private room are ready, and the guests are waiting."