Chapter 1
Dad sent out New Year's wishes in the family group chat. One of them said: [Son, Dad will always love you.]
I'm an only child.
I stared at the message for five seconds.
The group chat fell silent.
There were over thirty people in the chat, but not a single one said anything.
Mom was sitting on the couch, her face lit up by the glow of her phone.
I'll never forget the look on her face.
Dad frantically deleted the message.
But everyone had already seen it.
*****
The message was sent at 8:12 PM on New Year's Eve.
Dad was in the kitchen, talking on the phone.
I couldn't make out what he was saying, but I caught the last part: "Alright, alright, I'm hanging up. I've got the whole family here."
He hung up and came back to the living room, grinning. "Come on, time for dumplings."
Then he pulled out his phone and started sending out New Year's wishes.
He sent out a mass greeting every year.
He sent the same thing to every group and friend.
But this year, he wrote an extra one.
The original message went: [Harry, Dad's here with your sister for New Year's, but I'll be back with you and Mom tomorrow. Happy New Year. Dad will always love you.]
He didn't realize and ended up sending this one out with the rest.
It ended up in the family group chat.
That group had thirty-seven people in it.
My uncles, aunts, and cousins.
Everyone saw it.
Dad's face went pale in that instant.
He really did go pale.
It wasn't a figure of speech. You could see the blood drain from his face.
He frantically tapped his phone, trying to delete the message.
But WhatsApp displayed a notice: [This message was deleted.]
All thirty-seven people saw it.
Mom put down her fork.
She didn't cry or make a scene.
She sat there, staring at Dad.
Dad stammered, "This... this was a mass message... I sent it by mistake."
"Who's Harry?" I asked.
Dad didn't look at me.
"Who's Harry?" I asked again.
Dad kept his head down and said nothing.
"I'm here with your sister for New Year's, but I'll be back with you and Mom tomorrow," I read aloud.
I read the message out loud, word by word.
"Dad, who is he calling Mom?" I asked.
The only sound in the living room was the TV.
The hosts of the New Year's Eve special were laughing.
Mom stood up and walked into the bedroom.
The door closed.
There was no slamming, no sound at all.
She closed it gently.
That soft shut hurt more than any slammed door ever could.
I looked at Dad.
He still wore that same panicked look, trying and failing to hide it.
He'd spent his whole life hiding things.
But today, his secret finally came out.
"Let's eat first," he said. "Whatever it is, we'll talk about it after New Year's."
I looked at the table, loaded with food.
Mom had been up since six in the morning, getting everything ready.
She'd killed the fish herself, stewed the chicken, and wrapped every single dumpling by hand.
Dad hadn't lifted a finger.
He even said the fish was too fishy and told Mom to make it all over again.
And Mom did it, no questions asked.
And this man was going back tomorrow to "be with you and Mom."
Another woman.
Another home.
Another kid.
I didn't eat.
I went back to my room and fired up my computer.
I needed to get to the bottom of this.
You don't need to be a detective to uncover someone's secrets.
All you need to do is look at his phone.
Dad had a habit: he never let his phone out of his sight.
But tonight was different.
He'd been drinking.
Mom stayed in the bedroom, and Dad was alone in the living room, drinking in silence.
By eleven, he was passed out on the couch.
His phone was right there on the coffee table.
I picked it up and entered the password.
I knew his password. It was my birthday.
Talk about irony.
I opened WhatsApp and went to the contacts list.
I searched for "Harry."
One contact popped up: "Little Harry."
The profile picture was a boy in a school uniform, looking bright and energetic.
I opened the chat history.
I scrolled up.
I kept scrolling for a long time.
The chat history went all the way back to 2010.
2010.
Fourteen years.
A cold shiver ran through me.
I kept digging deeper.
[Little Harry took his first steps today.]—March 2011.
[Little Harry started kindergarten today and cried for ages.]—September 2013.
[Little Harry got the Honor Student award, like you.]—June 2018.
Dad replied to every single one.
[Good job, my boy.]
[Do you miss Dad? I'll come see you this weekend.]
[I've transferred the tuition. See if it went through.]
Tuition. Dad was paying for his school.
My hands started to tremble.
I kept scrolling.
And then, I found a photo.
It was a photo of Dad and that boy together.
The boy looked about thirteen or fourteen, and he had Dad's eyes and brows. He was the spitting image of him.
Same chin.
Same nose.
The background was an amusement park.
I recognized that amusement park.
In the summer of 2019, I wanted Dad to take me there.
He said he was too busy and didn't have time.
He wasn't too busy.
He was taking another kid instead.
I took screenshots of the whole chat history, start to finish.
More than three hundred screenshots.
Then I found her WhatsApp.
Saved under the name "Grace."
No last name.
I opened it.
The chat history was even longer.
It was ten times longer than Dad and Mom's chat history.
Their conversations were nothing but: [What's for dinner?] [Yeah.] [I'm home.] [Yeah.]
But the chat with Grace was like stepping into another universe.
[Your hubby misses you.]
[Are you coming back this weekend? Harry misses you.]
[I signed Harry up for piano lessons today. What do you think?]
[Alright, wifey, you decide.]
Wifey.
Dad called her "wifey."
I closed WhatsApp.
I looked at Dad, fast asleep.
The New Year's Gala had ended ages ago, and the TV was showing static.
The living room was dead quiet.
Suddenly, I realized I didn't know this man at all.
I never really did.