Spring Won't Wait, The Old Love Parts

When my husband was putting together back-to-school gifts for our daughter, he prepared two, as always.

One was a top-of-the-line computer he'd had to pull strings and wait nearly half a year to finally get his hands on.

The other was a palm-sized knockoff doll he'd bought from a roadside vendormy daughter was long past the age of liking that kind of toy.

Thomas casually picked up the doll and handed it to his daughter, pretending to be even-handed.

"In Dad's eyes, Zoey, you'll always be my little girl."

Just as she was about to speak, he turned to Rachel, the daughter of his first love, Molly.

"Rachel, you'll need this computer once school starts."

"If you need anything else, just let your Uncle Thomas know."

I watched him ruffle Rachel's hair, and watched my daughter press her lips together and pick the doll up off the floor.

A stifling weight sat in my chest, neither rising nor sinking.

When I was hemorrhaging through a difficult labor at the hospital, he was staying at his first love's place, changing her baby's diapers.

While I was running all over town with our daughter to tour schools, he paid in full for a house in a top school district for Molly.

While I flipped through a sixty-dollar prep book helping our daughter choose which colleges to apply to, he paid a fortune for a professional application team for Molly's daughter.

I took the doll from my daughter's hand and patted the dust off its plastic skirt.

"Give both gifts to her. Zoey doesn't need them."

And I don't need this anymore either.

Thomas's raised lips froze.

"Ina, this kind of childish thing isn't right for Rachel anymore."

I looked calmly into his eyes.

"They're the same age. So it's right for my daughter?"

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose and turned his gaze back to our daughter.

"Zoey, say it yourselfdo you like it or not?"

Pinned by his stare, she took a step back, lowered her eyes, and didn't answer.

He was always like thiswhenever a question was hard to answer, he tossed it to someone else.

He knit his brows, his voice dropping a notch.

"Stop being so timid and shrinking all the time, just like your mothercan't handle a big occasion."

Then Thomas took out his phone and opened his photo album.

"Look how beautifully Rachel is dressed. She even played the piano in front of thousands of people, without the slightest stage fright."

The pride in his eyes was practically overflowing.

It was something my daughter, in all her years, had never once been given.

Sure enough, the light in her eyes went completely dark.

And then a tangle of emotions rose up in me.

That day wasn't only Rachel's piano recitalit was also my daughter's coming-of-age celebration.

She was supposed to step happily into adulthood in the dazzling custom haute couture gown I'd had made for her.

But while I was doing our daughter's makeup, Thomas had taken the gown over to Molly's place.

I only found out when I saw the message he'd sent half an hour earlier.

The excitement in my daughter's eyes brimmed over with tears, and they wouldn't stop falling.

"Dad promised he'd come see me today"

The not-so-pleasant piano music stopped, and my thoughts finally came back to me.

I stepped forward, put myself in front of my daughter, and cut off his line of sight.

"Thomas, let's get a divorce."

Thomas's brows, relaxed a moment ago while he was lost in the memory, suddenly drew together.

"Is that really necessary?"

"Ina, you've gotten pettier and pettier these past few years."

My daughter stepped forward and took my hand.

Seeing the sorrow in her eyes, I looked back at Thomas.

"Think whatever you want."

No matter how my daughter and I tried to explain ourselves.

In his mind, the two of us were always the ones in the wrong.

Rachel lowered her eyes, the picture of understanding, her tone carrying a hint of forbearance.

"Aunt Ina, I know you hold a deep prejudice against me and my mom."

"So this computer that Uncle Thomas bought especially for melet Zoey have it."

She leaned hard on the word "especially."

And as she said it, she made to push the computer toward us, her face full of reluctance to part with it.

A large hand pressed down on the box, stopping her from handing the gift over.

Thomas held down his temper.

"Enough, Ina, don't push it too far!"

"It's just a back-to-school gift. I'll get your daughter a replacement, all right?"

The words had barely left his mouth when my daughter gently let go of my hand.

She buried her face in her hands and ran toward her room without looking back.

Thomas's hard jaw shifted, and he reached out, almost without thinking, in the direction she'd gone.

I waited for him to move, waited for him to take that one step toward our daughter.

But he hesitated.

Beside him, Rachel gave only a soft little sniff.

That one sound was enough to nail him in place.

Watching that fleeting flicker of reluctance in his eyes, I felt only how absurd it all was.

The man who, learning I was pregnant, had been too happy to sleep all night.

If he'd known back then that one day he'd treat his own flesh-and-blood daughter this coldly.

Would he have found it unbelievable?

I twitched the corners of my mouth, and just as I was about to speak

A special ringtone sounded from his phone, and Molly's voice leaked out of the earpiece.

Thomas's brows smoothed out.

The girl on the sofa curved her lips and looked at me smugly.

I paid her no attention and turned to walk toward my daughter's room.

She had stuffed herself completely under the covers, not so much as a hem showing.

I didn't pull the blanket off. I just patted the mound of it.

"Zoey, after you finish registering for school, would you like to go abroad to visit Grandpa and Grandma?"

After a long while, my daughter, eyes red and swollen from crying, slowly lifted her head.

"I want to."

My nose stung, and I gently held her close.

"Okay. Leave everything else to Mom."

There was a knock at the door.

Thomas stood in the doorway, as if nothing had happened at all.

"Zoey, Daddy's going to take you to pick out a gift."

Her chest rose and fell faintly, tears still swimming in her eyes.

I smoothed her fine, soft hair, and I could see at once that she was wavering.

She takes after meher heart softens too easily.

I cupped her face and said softly, "If you want to go, then go."

She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and a flicker of joy she didn't even notice crossed her face.

She opened the door.

Thomas gently brushed the tears from her face with the pad of his thumb.

But he didn't say a word.

I rubbed my fingertips together and followed.

When I saw Rachel come along too, I couldn't help speaking up.

"Why is she coming as well?"

Hearing this, Thomas turned to face me with a disappointed look.

"Ina, even if Rachel isn't your own child"

"we still can't play favorites. We can't leave the other child out."

Then I watched my daughter climb into the back seat on her own, the rims of her eyes still red.

And I watched Thomas smoothly open the front passenger door for Rachel, and Rachel accept it as though it were only natural.

My fingertips paused for a moment, and I looked out the window in silence.

Playing favorites.

I never imagined that one day I'd hear that phrase come out of Thomas's mouth.

On most of my daughter's important days, he always found some excuse to leave.

When my daughter did poorly on her mock exam, he wanted Rachelwho'd climbed one place in the rankingsto relax, so he took her to the ice rink my daughter had been longing to go to.

When my daughter was filling out her college applications, he ran off to Molly's place to comfort Rachel, who'd fallen short on hers...

I let out a soft breath.

I turned to look at my daughter, and there was a faint anticipation on her face.

I forced down the ache in my eyes and quietly unclenched the palm I'd dug my nails into.

The car pulled up in front of the familiar complex.

I gripped my daughter's hand tightly, my gaze fixed on Thomas as he got out of the car.

He noticed, but all he did was step ahead to open Rachel's door first.

Then, in a light tone, he said,

"Didn't Molly open one of those online stores the young girls like these days?"

"When she heard Zoey wasn't happy with her back-to-school gift, she was thoughtful enough to have me bring Zoey over to pick out a gift."

Looking at the smugness on his face, I couldn't help the wave of nausea that rose in me.

But when I saw my daughter's lashes tremble, I still chose to go with them.

The school-district complex was well guarded, unlike the neighborhood my daughter and I lived in, where drunks were a common sight.

Security guards stood at the foot of each building, there specifically to open and close the doors for residents.

But when it came to my daughter and me, we were asked to fill out a visitor registration form.

Thomas turned back to look at us, his face full of impatience.

"Filling out some information is normal, isn't it? If just anyone could get in, I wouldn't have chosen this neighborhood."

"You two hurry up. Molly's shop is really busydon't waste her time."

With that, he tucked his laptop in his arms and went upstairs with Rachel.

I closed my eyes for a moment and filled in the information.

While my daughter was writing, I tentatively asked the guard a question.

"That man just nowdoes he come here often?"

The young man nodded, his expression serious.

"Almost every day."

"You probably don't know this, but around here he's famousa real devoted husband and father."

My mouth fell open before I could stop it.

The young man seemed to suddenly catch himself, and stopped giving away residents' personal information.

My daughter slowly straightened up, tears streaming down her face as she looked at the guard, repeating over and over.

"He's my father, and my mother is his rightful, lawful wife."

The security guard scratched his head, at a loss, and could only say,

"I'm so sorry. You can go in now."

My daughter, her eyes red, turned to look at me.

I took her hand and shook my head at the young man.

"We're not going in."

And we wouldn't be stepping into Thomas Gilbert's world anymore either.

This time, my daughter didn't refuse.

Half an hour later, we got home.

I refreshed my feed and saw a new post from Molly, a diamond necklace around her neck, captioned:

Riding on a kid's coattailssomeone really spent a fortune.

I remembered that necklace. Before we got married, he'd promised he would give it to me.

I smiled, a little bitter.

He remembered the necklace.

But he forgot it was meant for me.

The next second, a message from Thomas popped up.

Where are you two? Molly has a live stream later, she won't have time to help you pick out gifts.

I didn't reply. I closed the chat.

I tapped into another conversation.

Ina, I've booked your and Zoey's plane tickets.

Your mom and I will be waiting for the two of you to come home.

My eyes stung, and I sent back an "okay."

Where there's love, that's home.

I put my phone away and went back to my room to pack.

When Thomas was young, he wrote me love letter after love letter, enough to fill a whole drawer.

It wasn't that the sweet words had been fakeit was that hearts change.

Back then, Molly and I were in a car accident together.

Thomas ran to me first.

And because of that, Molly went into premature labor and was left with lasting health problems.

From then on, Thomas always felt he owed Molly and her child.

And so my daughter and I were naturally pushed aside, and he always had his reasons.

I threw the love letters into the trash, but just then I heard a scream outside my door.

I hurried over and found my daughter clutching a wooden box, her face streaked with tears.

When she saw me, she burst into tears and threw herself into my arms.

"Mom, my money"

"All the money I've saved over the years is gone."

My heart sank.

Just then, the sound of a key turning came from the front door.

Thomas walked in carrying a box.

His thin lips were pressed tight, his face dark as he looked over.

Then, caught off guard, his eyes landed on my daughter's red, swollen eyes.

Thomas froze for a moment, then came over and saw the wooden box in my hands.

Something unnatural flickered across his usually cold face, and he coughed lightly.

I stared straight at him.

"It was you."

Thomas said nothing.

Seeing this, my daughter stumbled forward and grabbed his sleeve.

"That's my moneywhat right do you have to take it!"

Thomas's surging anger buried that faint flicker of guilt.

"Where would you get money? It was all given to you by me."

"Enough. We're done talking about this!"

Before my daughter or I could say anything more, Thomas cut us off coldly.

Before slamming the door and leaving, he didn't forget one last line.

"The gifts in that box were all carefully picked out by Molly."

"We report tomorrow. Molly and the others are coming with us, so remember to thank her in person then."

Bangthe door shut.

I wanted to rush out after him, but my daughter held me back.

"Mom, let this money settle everything between me and him."

I was stunned. My daughter went on.

"From now on, I don't have a father."

She choked the words out, and each one landed dead center in my heart.

I held her tight, tears pouring down my face.

My daughter stood up, tore to pieces the promise notes she'd kept for so long, and threw them all into the wooden box.

The promise notes.

Things my daughter had wanted, but that Thomas had never made good on in time.

Before, my daughter had treasured those little notes.

I never imagined the day would come when she would choose to tear them up.

Thomas had made so many promises, but he had never kept a single one for his daughter.

Meanwhile, whenever Molly and her daughter askedwhether for enrichment classes, trips abroad, designer jewelry, or anything else

Thomas had always given them whatever they wanted.

There was a knock at the door.

When I opened it, I saw a package sitting on the floor.

This was the divorce agreement and formal severance of family ties I'd had my lawyer draw up after Thomas Gilbert came back.

My daughter and I, stroke by stroke, formally signed our names.

As if anyone would go check in with you two.

My daughter and I would never be coming back.

"Mom, this photo frame..."

Zoey pointed toward the bookshelf.

I picked up my packed suitcase and followed her gaze.

It was a family photo taken a few years ago.

The two families together.

I took the photo out of the frame.

I tore off my daughter and me, the two of us standing on either side, leaving only the family of three in the middle.

"Take all the pictures of us with you."

Zoey nodded obediently.

I walked to the entryway and glanced at the boxes Thomas had just brought home.

They were all rejects from Molly's online store.

Shoddy workmanship, cheap fabric.

This was what Thomas called carefully selected.

I doubt he even glanced at it himself.

Before we left, seeing that my daughter wouldn't turn back to look, I stroked her hair.

She tilted her head and gave me a faint smile.

It was already late at night, but oddly enough a crowd was blocking the way downstairs.

The young woman leading them, holding up a camera, pointed straight at my daughter and me the moment she saw us.

Then, menacingly, she and her people closed in around us.

"These two bitches are the ones who wrecked Molly's family!"

The words had barely left her mouth before punches and kicks came raining down on us.

As a fan of kickboxing, I could hold them off at first, blocking while shielding my daughter.

But there were too many of them, and soon I was losing ground.

My daughter's breathing turned ragged, and I screamed for security.

But no one ever came.

Only when they tired themselves out did they stop, cursing as they left.

I held my daughter and dialed emergency services with trembling hands.

Before long.

My daughter lay on the stretcher, her lips pale, cold sweat beading at her temple.

After examining her, the doctor told me it was a traumatic pneumothorax.

I clutched my chest, unable to catch my breath.

The phone rang. It was Thomas.

"Where are you two? Why isn't Zoey answering any messages?"

I steadied my breathing and spoke heavily.

"She got a pneumothorax from being beaten by Molly's people. We're at the hospital now..."

"What?"

Thomas's tone finally carried a trace of panic.

A frail voice came through the receiver.

"Ina, I've been livestreaming all afternoon."

The sobbing on the other end came in broken hitches.

"I know you've never liked Rachel and me all these years, but I really..."

Before Molly could finish, Thomas's soothing voice reached my ears.

His gentle murmuring struck my eardrums like a hammer.

Not long after, he spoke cold and hard.

"Ina Sullivan, whatever the reason, you should never lie about our daughter's health just to frame Molly."

"I'll take Rachel to school first tomorrow, then I'll come find you two and we'll talk this out properly."

The beeping dial tone was piercing, and it became the last line of defense that finally broke me completely.

I contacted the school ahead of time to arrange a leave of absence.

The airport terminal, in the small hours.

My daughter, sitting in her wheelchair, looked up and asked me.

"Mom, can you really bear to do this?"

I smoothed back her loose strands of hair and crouched down to meet her eyes.

"I can. In my heart, you matter more than anything."

"Will you be able to bear it, Zoey?"

My daughter shook her head and looked at me steadily.

Neither of us spoke, but we both already knew the other's answer.

My phone buzzed.

The report you submitted has been received. After review, a case has been opened. We'll keep you updated on the progress. Thank you for your cooperation.

I set down my phone.

I took hold of my daughter's wheelchair handles, and without looking back, we moved forward together.

Nine hours later, we landed safely in Country A.

Once she powered it on, my daughter's phone kept lighting up with messages.

And I, too, received notifications for hundreds of missed calls.