Chapter 4

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone as the screen faded to black. I didn't even bother unlocking it.

I started doing the math in my head.

From 2020 to 2024, Mavis had been sending Sarah $2,000 every month for "living expenses".

That was four years and ten months—no, it started in March 2020, so it was actually four years and nine months. $2,000 times 57 months equals $114,000.

Then there were all those extra payments—baby formula, school fees, the down payment difference, seasonal clothes, and so on.

I scrolled through the screenshots I'd secretly taken, tallying up each payment.

Finally, I hit the equals button on my calculator. The total flashed on the screen: $128,000.

That was the "living expenses" I'd sent to Mavis, not a penny missing, all of it ending up with Sarah.

As for me—five years of mortgage payments: $1,800 a month for 60 months, and that was $108,000. Plus an extra lump sum I paid off early, so in total, I'd shelled out about $140,000.

No, I should be more accurate.

I pulled up my bank app and scrolled through the repayment history.

From 2019 to 2024. $1,800 for 60 months, and that was $108,000.

At the end of 2022, I used my year-end bonus to make an early mortgage payment, and that was $17,000.

At the start of 2024, I paid off another chunk ahead of schedule, and that was $21,000.

All together, that was $146,000.

I'd paid $146,000 in loans for this house, which was under David's name.

Adding up the monthly bills—utilities, property fees, Mavis's medical expenses, groceries, fixing up the furniture—I honestly lost track. With a rough estimate, over five years, I must've spent somewhere between $60,000 and $70,000.

$146,000 for the mortgage, $128,000 siphoned off as "living expenses", and another $60,000 for everyday costs. That was about $334,000.

It had been five years, and my monthly salary was $4,000. After taxes, that was about $240,000 over five years.

But I had borrowed money and used credit cards. And when Mavis said she needed dental implants, I covered it, and she still hadn't paid me back.

Out of that $334,000, some of it was borrowed.

The money I owed was gone to David's house, his mother, his mistress, and his kid. And my own bank account only had $1,247 left.

I turned off my phone. The screen went dark.

The room was silent. Outside, Mavis was watching TV. The sound buzzed faintly through the wall.

I stayed still, sitting there for a long while.

My mind kept replaying the same scene over and over.

It was about the little note on the shoe rack, written in a kid's messy handwriting: [Daddy's shoes, Mommy's shoes, my shoes.]

David had a family. He'd had one for a long time.

And me? I'd spent five years waiting for someone who'd never come back.

No, that was not right. David didn't go abroad. He'd always been here, just 2.5 miles away.

*****

Winter had already settled in. This year, the cold came early. By the beginning of November, the chill was creeping in.

I dug through the back of my closet, searching for my winter clothes.

The down jacket was still the same old one, with a zipper that had been stitched up. It felt stiff to the touch, and the patched seam bulged awkwardly.

I kept rummaging and found my cotton coat—a faded gray-blue, worn out, the collar frayed and turning white.

It was my grandma's.

The year she passed away, I'd only been married for less than two years.

She didn't leave me much. The money from the old house demolition went straight to my uncle. All she had in her final little room was a bed, a cabinet, and a standing fan.

Before she passed away, she handed me that old cotton coat. "I'll leave it to you. The cotton's good."

I never actually wore it, but I never threw it out either. Every time I moved, I brought it along.

The last time I saw it was three months ago. When I was unpacking, I pulled it out of a box and hung it in the back of my closet.

It was freezing today. I pulled out that old cotton coat and slipped it on. The padding was as thick as Grandma promised.

I slipped both hands into the pockets. The right one was empty, but there was something inside the left one.

It was something hard and thin.

I reached in, but my fingers didn't touch the bottom of the pocket. Instead, they brushed against a layer of fabric—the lining of the coat.

Grandma had sewn a hidden pocket into the lining. The stitches were so tight that I'd never notice them unless I looked closely.

I carefully unstitched the hidden pocket. Inside was something wrapped up with two layers of plastic and sealed tight with clear tape.

I peeled away the plastic.

It was an old bank passbook.

I opened it. The account holder's name was mine.

First deposit: June 2015. $150.

Second deposit: December 2015. $100.

Third deposit: March 2016. $200.

There were many deposits like these.

The last deposit happened in August 2022.

It was one month before Grandma passed away.

That deposit was $60.

In total, the balance was $23,000.

Inside the passbook, there was a tiny slip of paper. It was ripped straight from a school notebook. The handwriting was shaky and uneven, like a kid's scrawl.

Grandma never went to school for long, so her writing always looked childish—slow, careful strokes, and some of them were even wrong.

It read: [Haley I'm scared you'll suffer keep this money for yourself don't tell anyone]

There was no punctuation. Grandma never learned how to use it.

I stared at that note. There was $23,000 in total, saved up over seven years, from 2015 to 2022.

Grandma only got a little over 300 bucks each month for living expenses from my uncle. Sometimes he'd give it, sometimes he wouldn't.

She'd squirrel away a bit from that. Month after month, for seven years, she managed to save $23,000.

And the money was under my name.

Grandma was afraid I'd suffer.

I sat on the floor, wearing Grandma's old cotton coat, and gripped he passbook in my hand.

The room was quiet. The heating was weak, so there was a bit of chill, but the cotton coat kept me warm.

I looked down at the passbook again. The last deposit, $60, happened in August 2022.

That month, I went to see Grandma. She'd lost a lot of weight. She told me not to worry.

She held my hand and asked, "Haley, are you doing well?"

I said yes.

Grandma stared at me for a long while and said nothing.

A month later, she passed away.