Chapter 3 A Temporary Dad
881 Words
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my stiff body.
The familiar scent of him surrounded me instantly.
Beneath the faint smell of cooking oil and smoke, memories came rushing back.
I remembered when we'd first arrived in the city with nothing.
Back then, Mike Carter and I sold boxed lunches from a battered three-wheeled cart. He pedaled while I shouted out prices to passing customers.
I remembered winters so cold our hands split open from frostbite.
I remembered the day we finally saved enough to rent our own storefront.
Mike had scooped me up and spun me around, laughing so hard he could barely speak.
"Honey, we never have to run from the inspectors again!"
Seven years.
We'd fought our way from a tiny street cart to a successful neighborhood diner.
We'd survived every hardship together.
Surely I was overthinking things.
There was no way Mike Carter would throw away seven years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice.
No way he'd abandon me and our baby for a widowed seafood vendor. Right?
The moment that thought crossed my mind, all my defenses collapsed.
Tears poured down my face.
I buried myself against Mike Carter's chest and sobbed until I could barely breathe.
The pain. The suspicion. The fear. Everything I'd been carrying finally spilled out.
"Don't be upset," he murmured softly. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have hidden it from you."
Jennifer Davis walked over and pulled out her phone.
"Susan Miller, let's add each other on w******p. From now on, I'll send all the seafood invoices directly to you. That way there won't be any misunderstandings."
I wanted to believe it was over. I convinced myself the worst had passed.
I was wrong.
After that day, Mike Carter stopped sleeping on the foldout cot at the diner.
But he started coming home later and later.
Every time I asked where he'd been, there was always an explanation. Checking prices at other markets. Meeting suppliers. Repairing equipment.
Endless excuses.
Eventually, he promised he'd come with me to my prenatal appointment.
But just as we were about to leave, his phone rang.
Something had supposedly gone wrong at the cold-storage warehouse.
He couldn't come. Again.
I sat alone, rubbing my growing belly while staring at the appointment slip in my hand.
Late that night, I was scrolling through my phone when Jennifer Davis's latest post appeared.
The photo showed a school sports field. Painted across the pavement were the words: Parent-Child Sports Day.
In one corner of the picture, I spotted a man's sneaker.
I recognized it instantly. I'd bought those shoes for Mike Carter just a month ago.
The caption read: [My son finally got a dad to run the relay race with him today.]
I stared at the screen. The cold spread through my entire body.
That night, Mike Carter didn't come home until after midnight.
The moment he walked through the door, I confronted him.
I'd lost count of how many confrontations we'd had by then.
But he didn't even blink.
"Jennifer Davis is raising a child by herself," he said flatly. "Life isn't easy for her. What's wrong with helping out for one day? Being a stand-in dad at a school event isn't a crime. Can you stop being so petty? Other people's kids matter too."
"What about our child?"
I screamed so loudly my throat burned.
"What about the baby I'm carrying? Tell me, Mike Carter. Which child matters more? Yours or hers? You promised you'd come to my prenatal appointment. You stood me up so you could go play happy family with her son. So whose husband are you?"
Mike just looked at me.
"I'm tired," he said. "I don't have the energy to fight with you."
In the end, I couldn't stop myself. I went to the seafood market.
I needed answers. I needed to know whether Jennifer Davis really was nothing more than a supplier.
I slipped into the public restroom near the market.
I'd barely sat down inside one of the stalls when I heard a group of vendors chatting outside.
"Did you see that huge gold bracelet Jennifer Davis was wearing today?"
"Of course. That thing has to cost a fortune."
"Where do you think she got it?" another woman laughed. "Boss Mike from that big diner bought it for her. He drives her around every day on his trike. I heard he even paid the deposit on her new apartment."
"No way. Doesn't he have a wife?"
"So what if he does?" someone scoffed. "Jennifer acts all pitiful, but she's not innocent. Those two flirt behind her stall all day long."
"Mike even picks up her kid from school. The three of them look like a real family."
"Honestly, it's shameless."
"Keep your voice down."
The restroom faucet turned on. A moment later, their footsteps faded away.
I sat there motionless.
Every muscle in my body had gone rigid.
So that was where he'd been all those nights.
Not comparing prices. Not meeting suppliers. Not fixing equipment.
He was picking up her son from school. Helping her close her stall.
A life that looked more like a family than the one waiting for him at home.
And after he finished taking care of them, he came back to me.
- Writer
