Chapter 3

Zeke saw my face and tried to smooth things over. "You and Milo can sit in the back. He can't stand to be away from you anyway."

I swallowed my rage and climbed into the back seat with my son.

As I buckled his seatbelt, I noticed a new pair of couple dolls dangling from the rearview mirror.

The male doll was in a suit, the female in a flowing red dress. Custom-made.

Jenna noticed me looking. She laughed.

"Oh, Zeke, you put them up! I told you that old lucky charm you had was so dated. It didn't match your vibe at all."

Zeke immediately agreed. "You're right. I was getting sick of that old thing anyway."

I didn't say a word. I just turned my head to stare out the window, pretending I couldn't hear them.

That "old thing" was a lucky charm I had personally gone to a temple for. I’d knelt on every one of the ninety-nine stone steps to pray for it.

When I gave it to him, Zeke was so moved he said he'd keep it hanging in his car for the rest of his life.

Now, he was sick of it.

The car moved smoothly down the road while Jenna and Zeke chatted about everything from her travels abroad to luxury handbags. I felt myself drifting off.

"Kira, you really need to take better care of yourself. You've aged so much in the last seven years," Jenna said suddenly, turning to look at me. Her tone was laced with pity. "I can recommend some skincare products. We wouldn't want people thinking Zeke's standards have dropped."

I forced a smile. "No, thanks."

Zeke scoffed. "Don't bother with her. No amount of skincare can fix that."

Jenna burst out laughing, reaching over to playfully brush something off Zeke's shirt. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

"Don't say that, you'll hurt Kira's feelings."

I closed my eyes, refusing to watch their disgusting performance.

When we got to the amusement park, Milo jumped out of my arms, pointing excitedly at the carousel.

"Mommy, I want to ride that with Daddy!"

Zeke frowned. "You go by yourself. Daddy doesn't like stuff like that."

"You're already here. Can't you just play with your son for five minutes?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.

"He likes this stupid shit because he's a moron. I'm not."

Before I could say anything, Milo tugged on my sleeve. "It's okay, Mommy," he whispered.

I took him onto the carousel myself. As he laughed beside me, my heart ached.

"Mommy, look! Daddy and Auntie Jenna are eating ice cream!" Milo shouted, pointing.

I followed his gaze. Zeke and Jenna were standing side-by-side, each holding an ice cream cone. I watched as Zeke gently wiped a dab of cream from the corner of Jenna's mouth with his finger.

Then he put that same finger into his own mouth, licking it clean.

Jenna lowered her head, looking bashful, and gave him a little nudge with her shoulder.

I remembered back in college, before every date, I'd make sure to have his favorite strawberry ice cream ready.

He used to hold me and say, "Kira, you're the best. I'll never leave you."

Milo seemed to sense my mood and fell quiet, focusing on the ride.

I looked back at Zeke and Jenna. They had finished their ice cream and were now taking selfies. Jenna struck pose after cute pose while Zeke held her tight around the waist, both of them beaming.

"Mommy, let's get off. I'm done," Milo said, tugging on my sleeve.

I snapped back to reality and lifted him off the carousel.

"Kira, look! I bought Milo a mask of the Monkey King!"

Zeke walked towards us, holding a golden mask, a wide grin on his face.

I just stared at him, saying nothing.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?" His smile faltered.

"Does it matter if I like it?" I shot back with a cold laugh. "You've never cared about my opinion anyway."

"Kira, Zeke was just trying to do something nice for Milo. How can you say that?" Jenna chimed in, playing the role of the righteous defender.

"Kira, what the hell is your problem? Jenna is here, don't embarrass me," Zeke hissed, his voice low but dripping with annoyance.

"Milo, sweetie, come on. Auntie will buy you something much better," Jenna said, trying to pull my son towards a nearby toy store.

"Mommy..." Milo clung to my dress, his small voice trembling, clearly frightened by the tension.

I forced my emotions down, managing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"It's okay, sweetie. Mommy's fine. You go with Daddy to pick out a toy, and I'll go get you some cotton candy."

Milo hesitated before nodding and letting go of my hand.

I watched the three of them walk into the toy store, laughing and talking like a happy family, leaving me feeling like the outsider.

The cotton candy stand was in a quiet corner of the park. It took me a while to find it.

"What shape do you want?" the vendor asked.

"Whatever," I said absently.

He skillfully spun a fluffy white bunny and handed it to me. I stared at it, frozen.

This wasn't the kind of bunny Zeke liked.

I used to buy him bunny-shaped things all the time, and he’d always laugh and say, "I only like the ones with short ears."

I would snuggle up to him, call him silly, and then buy him something with short ears the next day.

The cotton candy bunny in my hand had two long, floppy ears.

The vendor saw me staring and thought I was unhappy. "Miss, that's my newest design! I guarantee your kid will love it."

I snapped out of it, paid him, and started walking back.

How pathetic. I still remembered what kind of bunny he liked.

The park was a blur of colors and people. I felt dizzy and disoriented. I pulled out my phone to ask Zeke to send me his location.

Instead, a new message from Jenna popped up. I opened it, my finger moving on its own. It was a video.

In the video, my son, Milo, was kneeling on the floor, struggling to bow his head to the ground in front of Jenna. With each bow, he recited in his little voice:

"I'm a little dummy, and my mommy is a big dummy."

Zeke and Jenna were standing over him, howling with laughter. Jenna patted Milo's head and cooed, "Such a good boy. From now on, Auntie will buy you lots and lots of toys. I'm so much better than your useless mother."

My hand clenched into a fist, my knuckles cracking.

Those bastards. How dare they do this to my son.