"What does your man do?"

The woman continued washing the dishes without stopping her movements. "He, well, works at construction sites. He earns hard-earned money and is rarely home."

"How did he make a fortune at construction sites?"

"They say he partnered with someone to buy a piece of land, and they unexpectedly found something valuable, which they secretly sold."

"What valuable thing?"

"How would I know? I'm just a woman."

"What's wrong with being a woman? Haven't you suspected him all these years?"

With a loud sound, the bowl fell to the ground and shattered into pieces. The woman stared at me with empty eyes, mouth agape, but remained speechless.

I looked at the photo on the table again. "Why isn't there a picture of the two of you?"

"He said he doesn't like taking photos."

I smirked inwardly. I couldn't believe such an excuse about not liking photos.

Perhaps it's not that he doesn't like taking photos, but that he never truly cared about the three of them.

Who on earth is he? A tiger does not devour its cubs.

"Let's go to the construction site."

"No, it can't be him." The woman rushed over and grabbed me, and I frowned at the water stains on her sleeve.

"How could it be him? Are you joking? He's the father of our child."

The woman sat dejectedly on the ground, and I couldn't help but feel frustrated, just like that woman years ago.

Even though she suffered inhumane persecution, why didn't she leave? Is the man everything?

I pulled my hand away from her sleeve. "Fine, if you don't want to go, that's perfect. I have things to do, and I don't have time to fool around with you here."

"Stop! I'll go, I'll go." The woman couldn't help but burst into tears, yet she continued packing her things, afraid that I would leave.

I couldn't bear to look at her anymore, so I turned away.