Five Years For A Lie

Just one week into my new job, I was wrongfully accused of cooking the books, and it cost me five years behind bars.

After that, my wife found out she was pregnant. She insisted on having the baby and promised to wait for me to come home. Out of gratitude, I threw myself into work after my release. I did everything I could to give them a good life.

It was until one day, I overheard a conversation between my wife and our son.

“Mom, don’t let Dad come out with us. It’s embarrassing! Why did you pin Mr. Scott’s crime on him back then?! And now, the girl next door keeps making fun of me, saying my dad’s a criminal!”

My wife gently pulled our son close and comforted him, saying, “I promised Mr. Scott I’d help him. Your dad’s so naive. He’ll never find out.”

It turned out that my supposed happy life was nothing but lies and betrayal!

“When your grandma found out your dad was innocent, she went everywhere begging for help, kneeling to anyone who would listen. In the end, she just stayed home and wallowed in sorrow until she passed away. I felt guilty about that, and now, all I want is to stay by your dad’s side. I want to keep him company and make up for it.

“Besides, even though Mr. Scott is still getting his business off the ground and doesn’t have much money, he’s really kind to you. Why not just think of him as your second dad?”

From inside the room, my son gave a muffled hum in response.

Xena let out a soft chuckle and then pulled out a toy to cheer him up.

Standing outside the door, I felt like I was nailed to the spot. Every word from their exchange pierced my heart. Looking up, I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes.

Back then, I had just graduated from college and was assigned to work as an accountant at a factory. Who would have thought that after only a week, I would be falsely accused of cooking the books and sentenced to five years in prison?

When I was released, I received the terrible news that my mother had passed away.

I had grown up without a father. It was my mother who raised me against all odds, ignoring society’s judgment and doing everything she could to bring me up.

At the time, I collapsed in tears in front of her tombstone, sobbing until I lost my voice. It was Xena, holding our four-year-old son’s hand, who gently pulled me back up with a warm look in her eyes.

“Calvin, you’ve still got me and our little boy. We’ll always be here for you.”

Our son called out to me in his sweet voice as his chubby little hands wrapped tightly around me. Holding their hands, I decided then and there to pull myself together.

Now, I found out that it was Xena, along with her first love, who had sent me to prison back then. All those precious years of my youth were completely wasted!

What I had thought was salvation had really just been their way of keeping things easy and stable for themselves.

I clenched the 200-dollar bonus the company had just given me. I had planned to take Xena and our son out for a treat. Now, however, I shoved the bills into my pocket to keep them for myself.

At that moment, Xena came out carrying a bag of trash. She froze for a moment when she saw me standing at the door. She patted her chest and let out a sigh, looking anxious. “Calvin, why are you standing out here? Why didn't you come inside?”

As soon as he heard that, our son ran out all excited, holding up his arms for a hug. “Daddy, you’re finally home! I missed you so much!”

In the past, I would have smiled and lifted him up to spin him around. Today, I said in a calm voice, “I’m too exhausted today, so I’m not picking you up.”

He pouted, lowered his head, and ran off.

Perhaps my face was red from anger, but Xena immediately put down the trash bag and reached out to check my forehead for a fever. “Are you running a fever? Are you feeling okay?”

I shook my head and gently moved her hand away. “I’m just tired. I’ll be fine after a rest.”

Seeing nothing visibly wrong, Xena gave a small nod before turning to close the window. Just as she was about to leave, she handed me a steaming cup of hot water. “I’m taking out the trash. I’ll make dinner when I get back.”

I mumbled in response and placed the steaming cup on the table. Even though it was hot, the cup felt icy cold when I touched it. How much of her concern was really sincere?

I lowered my head and noticed a small hidden compartment below the coffee table. Pulling it open, I found a stack of papers inside. As I focused on them, I saw that they were hotel receipts.

The last one was dated October 13th, 1981—my very first day in prison.

Back then, Xena was still crying, promising she would wait for me and that we would spend our lives together. However, in no time, she was in bed with her first love, Lucas Scott.

On the back of one receipt, she even wrote about how she felt: [It’s my first time with him like this, and I’m so happy. I hope there will be more times like this in the future.]

They had been secretly meeting up with each other in hotels for over five years and had been doing it right under my nose since I got out six months ago! I felt so sick I almost threw up. Clutching the trash can nearby, I started shivering all over.

My son, startled by the noise, ran over and asked, “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

I quickly pushed the compartment back in and forced a calm expression. Staring at my son’s face, which was so much like Xena’s, I found myself unable to utter a single word of comfort. I could not help but wonder. Was this child even mine?