Chapter 1

After Edward's undercover work ended, it felt like he had become a different person. He would often stare blankly out of the window, with sadness and melancholy in his eyes. He no longer lifted our daughter up and twirled her around, calling her "baby." He stopped bringing flowers home after work, and he even avoided my affectionate gestures.

Later, on the day our daughter Doris was hit by a car, I saw him tenderly kissing another woman in the rain.

I was in a meeting when I received the news about Doris's accident. When I heard the words “died on the spot,” I froze. I rushed to the funeral home like a madwoman, finding Doris's contorted body lying on a cold table. The yellow dress I personally put on her that morning became her burial clothing. Chaos surrounded me—some people tried to console me, others were interrogating, and the truck driver was hurriedly explaining, “It was your daughter who ran the red light. It's not my fault!”

I collapsed to the ground, desperately yelling, “How could she run a red light? Where is her father? Where is her father?”

"Mrs. Jane, your daughter was alone when she got off the bus. We didn't see any accompanying adult," a police officer told me.

I had always taken Doris to her piano lessons, but this one time, she asked for her daddy to take her. Ever since Edward came back from his year-long assignment, his attitude towards us had become cold and distant. He liked to be alone, avoided eye contact with me, often made excuses to sit in the car and smoke, and even got irritated with Doris’s playful requests.

Our beloved daughter couldn't understand why her dad had changed. Innocently, she just wanted to mend their relationship. I agreed, sending the two of them off before heading to my meeting.

I never imagined that this one time would cost Doris her life.

I called Edward repeatedly, only to be met with busy signals. My own parents were far away, and with my mother-in-law gravely ill, I was left to face this devastating blow alone.

Finally, under my signature, Doris was reduced to a small box of ashes. Holding her ashes, I walked back to the neighborhood like a zombie, only to find Edward. He was in the rain, gently lifting the face of another woman and kissing her deeply.

The woman was petite, nestled softly in Edward's arms. They kissed for so long that even I, as an onlooker, had not noticed. Doris’s tragic demise flashed through my mind, juxtaposed with the scene before me. It was almost laughable.

At this moment, I didn’t know whether to feel anger or sorrow. I didn’t even have the energy to question or rage; I just stood there, empty-headed. I should have seen it coming.

Given Edward’s unique job, I had always known I’d have to manage the household independently when I married him. For seven years, I worked during the day and tended to my ailing mother-in-law at night. I single-handedly set up our new home, carrying tiles up six flights of stairs to save a few hundred dollars.

When I got pregnant, I fainted from vomiting in the bathroom and lay there for seven or eight hours before anyone discovered me. I attended prenatal appointments alone, feeling out of place among couples. My water broke in the middle of the night, but I took a cab to the hospital by myself and signed the necessary papers alone.

When I was sad, he wasn't there. When I was happy, he still wasn't. I was like a lone ranger; many asked where my husband was, but due to confidentiality, I would brush them off, making me seem like a pitiful widow.