Chapter 4: Shattered Glass and Shattered Lies

After I’d downed three glasses, my mom finally spoke. “Haley, you’re right. I still have you.”

Her words were soft but strong, a declaration of independence. I felt a surge of pride.

My dad and Debbie clearly didn’t get it.

They exchanged confused glances, missing the shift in the air. I smiled, knowing the tide had turned.

The weight on my chest finally lifted. My mom had made up her mind.

I breathed easier, knowing we were finally on the same team.

That meant I didn’t have to hold back anymore—no more worrying about family ties or father-daughter relationships.

I set down my cup, then slapped Debbie so hard she fell onto the couch.

The sound echoed, sharp and satisfying. Debbie gasped, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.

“My mom bought that dress for me—why should you get it? Who do you think you are, trying to take my stuff?”

I stepped closer, my voice cold. She shrank back, her bravado gone.

Arms crossed, I stared her down. “You’re just the housekeeper I hired for my mom, and you have the nerve to make her do chores and cook for you? Who do you think you are?”

I let the words hang, daring her to answer. My dad looked stunned, unsure what to do.

“Anyone who knows you’re our housekeeper. Anyone who doesn’t might think you’re trying to sleep with my dad. What, not tired from doing chores all day, so you work overtime at night? Should I double your salary?”

I smirked, watching her face turn red. She sputtered, unable to form a reply.

Because I’d lived away at school, they had no idea what I was capable of.

I cracked my knuckles, letting them know I wasn't afraid of a fight.

I finished my rant without even breaking a sweat. Debbie jumped up, trying to hit me, but I dodged easily—after all, I’d taken self-defense in college.

She swung wildly, but I sidestepped, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back. My dad lunged, but I glared him down.

I’d had enough of this so-called aunt.

I shook my head, disgusted. She was no family of mine.

I slapped her again, knocking her back onto the couch. She clutched her stomach, screaming, “Eddie, she’s bullying me! Aren’t you going to do something?!”

Her voice was shrill, echoing through the house. My dad rushed to her side, his face red with fury.

My dad rolled up his sleeves, storming over. “You’re so spoiled you dare hit people now?!”

He looked ready to explode. I stood my ground, refusing to back down.

Look at him—such a hypocrite.

I laughed bitterly. He'd never stood up for my mom, but now he wanted to play the hero?

My mom stepped in front of me. “You’re really going to hit your own daughter for her?”

She held her arms out, blocking his path. He hesitated, torn between anger and shame.

“Look at the daughter you raised—no manners at all! I’m going to teach you a lesson today!”

He pointed at me, his voice shaking. I stared back, unafraid.

“I’ll tell you—Debbie’s pregnant, and the baby’s mine!”

He spat the words out, as if daring me to react. My mom gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

The second he finished, he saw me coming out of the kitchen swinging a wine bottle. He hesitated. “What are you doing?”

I gripped the bottle tightly, my eyes cold. “You made a promise, Dad. Time to own it.”

I smashed the wine bottle on the glass coffee table. It shattered instantly.

The crash echoed, shards flying everywhere. My dad jumped back, his face pale.

Debbie cowered behind my dad, too scared to breathe.

She whimpered, her eyes wide with terror. My dad looked at me, fear in his eyes for the first time.

“When you failed at your business, Mom sold the house to help you start over. You promised that if you ever betrayed her, you’d break your own legs. Why wait? Let’s settle this now!”

I stared him down, daring him to deny it. He looked away, ashamed.

My dad backed away, not daring to look at me.

He shuffled toward the door, his bravado gone. Debbie clung to his arm, her face pale.

“For years, your clothes were always pressed, your shoes shined, your stomach and diabetes cared for—all thanks to my mom.”

I gestured around the house, letting him see everything he'd taken for granted.

“Remember how Grandpa and Grandma treated her? She cared for Grandpa on his deathbed, cleaned him, emptied his bedpan—everyone praised her as a perfect wife.”

I pointed to the family photos on the wall, each one a reminder of her sacrifices.

“She used to be the campus beauty, everyone’s goddess. Now, trapped at home, she’s called lazy and unfashionable?”

I shook my head, disgusted. He'd stolen her light and called it love.

“Looks like it’s time for a reckoning.”

I let the words hang, daring him to argue. He just stared at the floor, defeated.

My dad stayed silent.

He didn't say a word, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

I pointed the broken bottle at the door. “Get out. If you’re not gone soon, I can’t guarantee what I’ll do next.”

My voice was steady, my resolve clear. He nodded, dragging Debbie toward the door.

He didn’t argue, dragging Debbie out. She tried to protest, but one glare from him and she shut up.

She whimpered, but he silenced her with a look. They disappeared down the hallway, the door slamming behind them.

My mom took the broken bottle from me, wiping my tears with a bitter smile.

She cupped my face in her hands, her eyes full of love and sorrow. "You've grown up, Haley. I'm so proud of you."

“Haley’s grown up—she can protect her mom now.”

Her words were soft, but strong. I hugged her tight, promising to always be there for her.

She’d heard everything I said. She didn’t seem surprised about Debbie’s pregnancy claim.

She just nodded, as if she'd known all along. I felt a surge of gratitude for her quiet strength.

I swept up the broken glass, then went upstairs and packed up all of Debbie’s things, tossing them outside.

I stuffed her clothes into trash bags, tossing them onto the porch. The neighbors peeked out their windows, but I didn't care.

The ugly couch went, too. I called building staff to haul it away.

They grumbled about the weight, but I slipped them a tip. "Good riddance," I muttered as they wheeled it out.

The living room felt a little empty. I hadn’t spent much time at home, so if I felt this way, how much worse must it be for my mom?

I looked around, imagining how lonely it must have been for her all these years. I promised myself I'd fill the house with laughter again.

I was about to go comfort her when she came out of the kitchen with two bowls of chicken noodle soup.

The smell was warm and familiar, like a hug from childhood. My stomach rumbled, and I realized how hungry I was.

The smell made my nose sting.

I blinked back tears, grateful for her steady presence. She set the bowls on the table, her hands shaking.

“After all that, you must be hungry. Eat with me.”

She smiled, her eyes red but determined. I nodded, sitting down beside her.

I sat obediently, blowing on my soup. “You haven’t eaten yet, Mom?”

I watched her, worried she was just going through the motions.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

She smiled softly, her eyes shining with love. I felt my heart swell with gratitude.

As we ate, tears fell into my mom’s bowl. “Haley, I want to divorce your dad.”

Her voice was quiet, but firm. I reached across the table, squeezing her hand.

I answered quietly, “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

She smiled, relief flooding her face. For the first time in years, she looked hopeful.

She’d finally figured it out.

I let out a long breath, feeling lighter than I had in ages.

Years of my dad’s manipulation had nearly erased her sense of self. But as long as she wanted to change, it wasn’t too late.

I promised myself I'd help her every step of the way.

“Your dad wasn’t always like this. He used to be good to me, but things changed.”

She looked down, her voice full of regret. I squeezed her hand, letting her know I understood.

“He promised I could keep working after marriage, but when your grandpa got sick, I quit. There was more and more to do at home, and my job was forgotten.”

Her eyes filled with tears. I handed her a tissue, wishing I could turn back time for her.

“Gradually, I saw more lipstick on his collars. I wanted a divorce, but your grandma said all men are like that, and I’d have nowhere to go. Plus, you were so little.”

Her voice broke, and I hugged her tight. "You were never alone, Mom. You have me."

The light in her eyes faded. “When I was home, your dad and Debbie at least tried to hide it. But now they’re bold enough to do it in front of you. You’re so young—you shouldn’t have to see that.”

She looked at me, guilt in her eyes. I shook my head, reassuring her.

“I came home from shopping and saw your dad making her soup. In all our years together, even when I was sick, he never made me soup. Now he expects me to care for his mistress.”

Her words were full of pain, but also resolve. I nodded, letting her know I understood.

She’d compromised again and again, but in the end, one bowl of soup broke her.

Sometimes, it’s the smallest things that finally push us over the edge.

I pulled out an old photo album, pointing to a picture of her in a cocktail dress with foreign guests.

She smiled, tracing her younger self with a trembling finger. "That was a good night."

“Mom, look how beautiful you were. Everyone says I look like you—that’s why I’m so pretty.”

I grinned, making her laugh through her tears. She hugged me, her spirits lifting.

She stroked the photo, reluctant to let go. “That was my first time translating. I was so nervous, scared I’d make a mistake.”

She told me how her hands shook, but she pulled it off anyway. I beamed, proud of her courage.

We turned to her wedding photos—my dad in a suit, kneeling with a ring, my mom beaming in her wedding dress.

The pictures told a story of hope and love, now long gone. I felt a pang of sadness, but also resolve.

Back then, her eyes sparkled, and his gaze was full of warmth.

They looked so happy, so full of promise. I wondered where it all went wrong.

But in the end, that stunning woman became the silent Mrs. Evans, trapped in a cage.

I closed the album, vowing to help her break free.

But it’s okay.

I hugged her, whispering, "We're going to be okay, Mom. I promise."

My mom has me. I’ll fight for her.

I squeezed her hand, feeling stronger than ever. Together, we could handle anything.