That Final Daddy

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The chilly wind on the night before the holiday swept across the balcony. While I crouched by the trunk stuffing in the picnic mat, I heard Melody Scott's voice from the living room: Luna, be good, fix your braids nicely; the photos will look better tomorrow.

As I walked in, I saw Melody Scott braiding seven-year-old Luna's and five-year-old Lucy's hair. Luna had double ponytails tied with pink butterfly ribbons, and Lucy wore braided pigtails. Both little girls held colorful pinwheels that spun with a soft whir.

"Tomorrow we're going to the Reed Marsh; the little wildflowers there are all in bloom." I gently rubbed the tops of their heads as the windmill blades swept across my palm, carrying a faint, cool touch.

"Dad, make sure to bring the strawberry cake!" Luna let go of the windmill and tugged at my shirt hem, her round eyes locked on me, her little face full of eager anticipation.

"I want orange soda! Chilled!" Lucy called out, holding up an empty glass soda bottle, still smeared with leftover orange juice.

"We'll bring everything, we'll bring everything." I smiled and nodded, just about to check in the kitchen if the cake base was done baking, when Melody Scott's phone on the coffee table suddenly rang.

She freed one hand to answer the phone, her usually gentle expression slowly darkening, even the motion of braiding Lucy's hair coming to a halt.

"Okay, I understand. I'll be at the company in half an hour. Please wait for me." After hanging up, she tossed her phone onto the sofa, her brows tightly furrowed.

"A major client at the company suddenly wants to meet. They said it's about a key project for promotion. I'll head over as soon as I finish." She stood up and straightened the collar of my hoodie, her fingertips feeling cold.

"Can't you cancel it? We made plans last week, and the kids have been looking forward to it for so long." My voice involuntarily tightened as my eyes landed on our two daughtersthey were lying by the window, watching the streetlights below, chattering excitedly about chasing butterflies in the Reed Marsh tomorrow.

"This is about whether I can get promoted to director, Frank Collins. Just this once." Melody's tone was both pleading and firm. "I put the allergy medicine in the top drawer by the entryway. If the kids get bitten by any bugs, spray it right away, got it? They're allergic to bee stingsthe doctor said we can't be careless even a little."

I didn't argue anymore. Watching her hurried figure as she left, my heart felt like a heavy stone pressing down.

That night, sitting quietly by my daughter's bedside, I softly said, "Tomorrow, Dad will definitely protect you both."

Early the next morning, I packed the strawberry cake, chilled orange soda, and the sandwiches and chicken wings my daughters loved into the picnic basket, checking it three times before finally feeling at ease.

"Let's go!" I called out. Luna and Lucy cheered happily as they rushed out, each carrying a small cartoon backpack filled with their drawing pens and little notebooks.

In the back seat, the two kids sang "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," while the shadows of their pinwheels swayed with the car.

Forty minutes later, we arrived at the reed marsh. The golden reeds were taller than Lucy, and water birds skimmed the surface, stirring ripples.

I found a flat patch of grass and spread out the picnic mat. Just as I finished laying out the sandwiches, Luna shouted, "Dad, there are pink little flowers over there!"

Before I could say anything, the two little ones grabbed hands and dashed toward a nearby patch of wildflowers, their braided pigtails and double ponytails fluttering in the breeze.

"Don't run too far! Stay within sight!" I called to their backs, holding the freshly opened milk carton.

"Got it!" They turned back, waving their hands, their voices crisp like freshly picked crunchy pears.

Just after ten minutes, a sharp cry suddenly rang out.

The milk carton in my hand hit the picnic mat with a "pop." I looked up to see them hugging their arms, crouched beside the flower bushes, while a swarm of bees buzzed overhead.

"Dad! It hurts! The bee stung me!" Lucy cried, gasping, her small body trembling fiercely.

I rushed over, my heart tightening instantlyLuna's arm, with the red mark turning purple, her lips darkening; Lucy had a bump on her neck, her little face flushed bright red.

"Don't be afraid, Daddy's here!" I tried to shoo the bees away, but they stubbornly circled around.

"Daddy's taking you both to the hospital!" I wrapped the kids up and ran toward the car, tripping over the reeds but holding tightly to the warmth in my arms.

After buckling the kids into the back seat, I realized I'd forgotten the allergy medicine at home. My hand trembled as I dialed Melody Scott's number three times before the call finally connected.

"The kids have been stung by bees! Hurry home and get the medicine!" My voice cracked as I stared at Luna trembling all over in the back seat.

"I'm stuck in a meeting and can't leave. Let Henry Lynn take it over; he's closer." On Melody Scott's end, there were clinking glasses and laughter, then she hung up.

"The hospital is forty minutes away! Luna's lips are turning purple!" I shouted, tears hitting the phone screen.

"Send the location first, I'll urge himhe'll be there soon." Melody Scott hung up without waiting for my response. The laughter in the background sounded especially sharp.

After I gave the address, I slammed on the gas. In the rearview mirror, Lucy's face kept going paler and paler: "Dad, when is Mom coming?"

"Soon, Lucy, be good." I wiped away my tears and kept my eyes glued to the road ahead.

"Soon, Lucy, just wait a little longerDad will have the medicine any minute now." I wiped away my tears, my vision so blurred I could barely see the road, but I kept staring straight ahead with only one thought in my mind: faster, just a little faster.

Twenty minutes later, Henry Lynn showed up, rolled down his window, and tossed me the bottle: "Frank, here's the medicine!" Before I could say a word, he was already driving off.

My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't open the bottle cap. After finally spraying the medicine, Luna's head suddenly tilted to one side. I checked her breathit was ice cold.

"Luna!" I screamed, reaching out to touch Lucy's hand. That little hand had lost its warmth too.

I crouched by the roadside, holding two ice-cold children and crying uncontrollably. No matter how warm the sunlight was, it couldn't warm my heart.

After crying for who knows how long, Melody Scott's call came through. My voice was hoarse as I said, "They're dead."

"Impossible! I'm coming right away! Don't scare me like that!" Melody Scott screamed, her panic finally overtaking the earlier dismissal in her voice.

When she rushed over, the ambulance had already arrived, and the medical staff shook their heads.

Melody threw herself onto the child, crying, while I stood nearby, feeling unnervingly distant from her.

The funeral home's cold air cut through me as I stared at the words "Condolences and comfort," unable to light a cigarette.

Melody sat on the bench, crying, repeating over and over, "If only I had come back sooner."

"Have some water." I handed her a cup of warm water, my voice colder than the funeral home's air conditioning, completely lacking warmth.

She looked up at me, tears still streaming down her face: "Frank Collins, do you hate me? Hate that I didn't come back? Hate that I only care about work?"

I stayed silent, staring toward the morgueLuna in her pink princess dress, Lucy in yellow. The makeup artist had made their little faces all rosy, but they would never wake up again.

Aunt came over, sighed, and patted Melody Scott on the shoulder. "Two such good kids, so lovable, yet you had to go and earn that little money. If you'd come back just a moment earlier, none of this would have happened."

Melody Scott's shoulders trembled even more; she buried her head deeper, her fingers picking at the edge of the bench, her knuckles white.

When Henry Lynn came in holding a bunch of white chrysanthemums, I was wiping my daughters' photos.

His gaze stayed fixed on Melody Scott, and his steps slowed down.

"Frank, Melody, my deepest condolences." He set the flowers down and quietly patted Melody's backthat intimate gesture felt like a thorn stabbing my heart.

"You should head back first; with Frank and me here, it's enough." Melody's voice carried a note of dependence, sounding less like she was addressing a subordinate and more like someone close.

Before leaving, Henry gave me a quick, nervous glance, as if he was hiding something.

I pushed down the doubts in my heart. Now's not the time to keep score. Our daughters' farewell ceremony hasn't been held yet; I don't want them to leave unsettled.

At the farewell ceremony, with mournful music playing softly, I touched the glass coffin and cried, "Dad will tell stories from now on, but who will listen?"

Melody Scott stood beside me, just wiping her tears nonstop, not saying a single wordnot even calling the girls' names once.

After the ceremony ended, she took my hand, her voice soft: "Let's go home, grab the kids' clothes, something to remember."

"I'll go by myself." I pulled my hand back, not wanting to touch her. Her hand was warm, but my heart was cold. When they met, it just felt awkward.

The house was still the sameher stuffed bunny sitting on the sofa, their doodles on the wall.

I opened the wardrobe, and the scent of peach-scented laundry detergent wafted outthat was Luna's favorite smell.

Just as I picked up a yellow little dress, voices came from the living room. It was Melody Scott and Henry Lynn.

I paused mid-step, held my breath, and leaned against the doorframe to listen.

"What are you doing here? I told you not to come over, Frank Collins is at home." Melody Scott's voice was flustered, with a hint of reproach.

"I'm worried about you. Seeing you cry like this breaks my heart." Henry Lynn's voice was low, tinged with affection. "Frank Collins hasn't suspected yet, right? His mind is full of the kids right now; he probably isn't thinking about anything else."

"How could he have time to think about me? After losing the baby, he looks at me like I'm an enemy." Melody Scott's voice was full of grievance, followed by the sound of clothes rustling.

I pushed the door open, my blood running coldHenry Lynn was holding Melody Scott, and her hand rested on his back, not pushing him away.

"I could have come home earlier that day. It's all your faultyou insisted on dragging me into that project discussion, saying it would help me get promoted." Melody Scott's voice was choked with tears, yet she leaned against Henry Lynn's chest without any resistance.

"I'm doing it for your own good. Once you get promoted, our lives will be better." Henry Lynn kissed her forehead, his tone casual. "The kid's accident was unavoidable. It has nothing to do with us. Don't take it to heart."

The word 'accident' stabbed like a knife in my chest. I grabbed a glass and smashed it at Henry Lynn's feet; shards scattered everywhere.

"Get lost." I gritted my teeth as I spoke.

"Get lost." I stared at Henry, my teeth clenched tight, each word forced through my clenched jaw.

"Frank, you've got it wrong, Melody and I just..." Henry panicked, releasing Melody and taking two steps back, his face full of guilt.

"I told you to get lost!" I grabbed the family portrait frame and swung it at him; it scraped his arm before hitting the wall.

Henry was so scared he ran off, almost losing a shoe.

"Frank, I was wrong, please give me another chance." Melody knelt down and grabbed my pant leg, tears soaking my trousers.

"My daughter has no chance left." I shook her off and stuffed my daughter's clothes into the suitcase, my chest aching as I struggled to breathe.

"Where are you going? Frank Collins, don't leave!" She ran out after me and stood at the door, yelling with panic in her voice.

"Stay away from you. Stay away from this family." Without looking back, I walked away. The sunlight was so bright it stung my eyes, but no matter how warm it was, it couldn't warm my cold hands or my heart shattered into pieces.

I stayed at the hotel for three days, revising the divorce agreement five times.

The lawyer said Melody Scott has the right to half the property. I told the lawyer, "As long as we can get divorced, she can have whatever she wants. I only want our daughter's things."

While packing the keepsakes, I found a note in Luna's drawing pad: "I hope Mom and Dad stay together forever." The handwriting was crooked, with pink lace drawn around the edges.

I put the note in my wallet and pressed it close to my heart.

Melody called, I declined, and kept packing the drawing padthere were drawings of me and of Melody; each one stabbed at my eyes with pain.

The company was rushing me to go back and hand over the project. When I got into the elevator, I bumped into Henry Lynn. He was dressed sharply, and when he saw me, his eyes panicked but quickly masked it with calm.

"Frank, about Melody's situation, I want to explain to you..." He took two steps forward, trying to pat my shoulder, his tone carrying a fake apology.

I dodged his hand, stepped back a step, staring into his eyes: "Don't call me that, I find it filthy."

His face instantly went pale, his grip on the coffee cup tightened: "Don't go too far. Melody and I are sincere, it's not what you think."

"Seriously? My daughter just passed away, and you're just goofing off at home!" I clenched my fists. "If it weren't for you, Melody wouldn't have come back, right? If you hadn't delivered the medicine late, would the child have died?"

"That was an accident! It has nothing to do with me!" he shouted. "I delivered the medicine fast enoughit's your fault for not watching the kid!"

My eyes turned red with anger, and I pushed him. He hit the elevator wall, spilling coffee all over himself.

But the next second, he suddenly put his hand to his forehead, and blood seeped through his fingers.

"Frank, why did you hit someone?" His voice was choked with tears, but his eyes darted toward the elevator entrance.

Sure enough, Melody rushed in, her face going pale when she saw the blood on Henry's head. She came over and pointed at me, saying, "Frank, are you crazy? He only came to make peace, so why did you hit him?"

"He provoked me first!" I pointed at Henry, but I noticed him quietly slipping the bloodstained tissue into his pocket, his eyes full of calculation.

"I didn't!" Henry burst into tears, looking deeply wronged. "I just said you shouldn't let the kids' matter get too tense, that you should talk it out calmly. And then you hit me, Frank. I really didn't expect you to be like this."

"Melody, do you believe him or do you believe me?" I looked at her, still holding onto the last shred of hope, wishing she could take my side, even if just once.

"Frank, you really disappoint me." She didn't look at me, holding Henry's arm, her voice thick with disappointment. "We're going to the hospital. I'll take you to get your injuries checked."

After they left, my colleagues' eyes pierced me like needles.

I sat at my desk, staring at my daughter's photo on the screen, tears dropping onto the keyboard.

In the afternoon, HR came over, handing me Henry's injury report: "He claims you deliberately beat him and plans to hold you responsible."

"I didn't hit him on the head; the surveillance footage can prove it." I pulled up the surveillance screenshot, which clearly shows that I only touched his shoulder.

"The surveillance angle is misleading." HR lowered her voice, "Director Scott said Henry Lynn's testimony should be taken as the standard."

I laughed until tears came to my eyes; it turns out, in her mind, I'm not even as good as a subordinate.

I took out my resignation letter and placed it on HR's desk: "I can't handle this shift anymore."

I took the resignation letter I had written long ago from the drawer and put it on HR's desk: "I resign. I can't handle this shift anymore."

After leaving the HR office, I printed the divorce agreement, put it into an envelope, and asked the front desk staff to send it to Melody Scott.

I had just gotten back to my desk when my phone rangit was Melody Scott calling.

"Frank Collins, do you really have to do this? Divorce, quitting your job... can't you just stay calm?" Her voice trembled with tears, as if she was deeply hurt.

"You're the one insisting on this." I hung up, shoved my daughter's drawing pad into my backpack, packed my things, and walked out of the company step by step.

Downstairs by the company building, Henry Lynn leaned against Melody's car, smugly lifting his chin and wrapping an arm around her waist.

I ignored him and looked up at the sky; the sunlight felt colder than the biting wind.