Chapter 2
We returned to our tiny shelter.
It was cramped and dim, tucked away in the farthest corner of the estate.
As soon as Mom stepped inside, she broke down in tears.
She said, "Michael, how could you agree to that?
"That's what you deserve.
"They're bullying you like this, and you don't even talk back? Why can't you stand up for yourself?"
She beat Dad's back, her tears soaking through his old suit.
Dad didn't say a word.
He let Mom vent, rubbing her back gently.
I stood to the side, gazing at the photo of the three of us on the wall.
In the picture, we were all smiling, looking so happy.
But now, this home was about to be gone.
My heart was filled with fear and a sense of helplessness.
I had no idea how long Mom cried before her sobs slowly quieted down.
All that remained in the room was the muffled sound of sobbing.
Dad poured Mom a cup of water and gently guided her to sit down.
Then he turned to me.
"Serena, go close the door," he said.
Dad's voice was calm, but carried a kind of authority one couldn't argue with.
I nodded, walked over, and slid the bolt shut on the old wooden door that creaked loudly.
Dad went to the bed.
It was a worn-out wooden bed, and underneath it sat a chest with a lock on it.
He took out a ring of keys from his pocket and opened the brass padlock.
Dad opened the chest.
Inside, there was no money, no gold or silver jewelry, just stacks of books, all neatly lined up.
From beneath the books, Dad retrieved something wrapped in oilcloth.
He placed the oilcloth bundle on the table and began to unwrap it, layer by layer.
Inside were four dark blue passports.
Mom stopped crying and looked at Dad, puzzled.
I leaned in, too.
When I saw what they were, I was completely stunned.
There were four passports. One was Dad's, one was Mom's, one was mine. And the last one... was my grandma, Caroline Harper's.
Grandma passed away three years ago.
Dad laid the four passports out neatly on the table.
Under the lamp, the gold crest on the passports shimmered strangely, casting a mysterious glow.
"Michael, what are you..." Mom asked, her voice trembled.
Dad raised his head and looked at us.
His eyes no longer carried the deep, unruffled calm he had shown out in the yard.
In his eyes, there was a depth—vast and unfathomable, like the ocean.
He said, "Let's go. We're leaving the country."
It was like a bomb went off in my head.
Went abroad?
We didn't have a TV at home.
We had to scrape together every last cent to buy a bit of meat for the holidays.
How could we ever afford to leave the country?
"You... what did you say?" Mom stammered. She was clearly as stunned as I was.
"I said, we're leaving here," Dad replied. He turned to Mom, his eyes filled with guilt. "All these years, you've had to put up with so much because of me.
"I've been getting ready for this all along.
"I've been teaching for twenty years. Every penny I've saved, every favor, every opportunity I could find—it's all been for this day.
"Deep down, I always knew this day would come.
"This home isn't worth clinging to."
Dad reached into the inside cover of another book and pulled out a few pieces of paper, all folded perfectly square.
They were plane tickets.
There was also an acceptance letter from a university overseas.
It was in my name: Serena Harper.
I was completely dumbfounded.
When did Dad... when did he set all this up?
How did I not know any of this?
"Grandma's passport..." I pointed at Grandma's passport and asked quietly.
Dad picked it up and ran his finger gently over Grandma's photo. "Three years ago, your grandma got really sick," he said. "She called me over to her bedside and handed me something."
Dad took out a small bundle wrapped in a handkerchief from his pocket.
He opened it up, and inside was a small gold bar.
"Your grandma told me this family was already broken," Dad said. "She apologized for not being able to protect me.
"She told me to leave, to go as far away as I could, and never come back.
"She said that since she never got to see those places herself, she wanted her ashes to travel there for her."
His eyes grew misty.
Today was the first time I saw him truly look sad.
Turned out, the only one who really understood Dad was Grandma—even after she was gone.
What we thought was a dead end was actually a new beginning that Dad and Grandma had already prepared for us.
I couldn't hold back anymore. I buried myself in Dad's arms, crying my heart out.
This time, it wasn't out of feeling hurt.
This time, it was pure shock and gratitude.
Dad, my hero.
The man everyone saw as the most ordinary, overlooked teacher, with his quiet strength, proved us all wrong in a way that hit harder than any slap.
He didn't shed a tear, didn't throw a fit.
He didn't even glance back at the old courtyard where he had endured decades of humiliation.
*****
Early the next morning, before dawn, Dad quietly led us out the door.
For the next twenty years, none of us ever returned to that place.