Chapter22
“I’m sorry, Sey, I didn’t do well. I was waiting for you to improve it.”
Seymour’s jaw tightened and he smiled awkwardly, “It’s good, actually. Go wash your hands first. Let’s eat, and we can continue after dinner.”
Ambrose came downstairs to see Mabel’s work but was stopped by Mabel.
“Ambi, this is a surprise, so can you wait until tomorrow to see it? I promise we’ll make sure you win first place.”
She wasn’t good at making handicrafts, but Seymour was capable in any field; his handicraft skills must be outstanding.
Ambrose didn’t doubt it and nodded eagerly. “Okay, Auntie Mabel, I believe in you.”
After dinner, Mabel imagined many intimate scenes of her and Seymour working together on the handicraft, but they were both stumped by the roof of the house.
She rolled the colorful paper into an inverted triangle. “Sey, do you think this will work?”
Seymour frowned; it worked but seemed out of place.
After a few attempts, Mabel’s nail broke, and her fingers started to bleed, shocking Seymour into making her rest.
Finally, by ten o’clock at night, they managed to complete something that vaguely resembled a house.
Seymour rubbed his brow, exhausted from a day at work and
unexpectedly having to do this at home.
“Let’s leave it at this. It’s late. Mabel. I’ll have the driver take you home.”
Mabel was taken aback. “Aren’t you…”
The words she didn’t finish saying were, “Aren’t you going to drive met back home?”
But Seymour didn’t have the energy to drive her back home.
He could probably stay up all night working without feeling tired, but this small craft project had him stumped.
He felt physically and mentally exhausted. “Mabel, thank you for helping me tonight.”
Mabel had to pretend to be considerate and said, “It’s fine, Sey. I’ll leave now then.”
The next day, Ambrose got out of bed by himself without anyone waking him.
“Dad, is my big house ready?”
“Mm–hmm,” at the dining table, Seymour took a sip of coffee and replied.
“Wait until you get to school to open it. It’s in the box to keep it from falling apart.”
Ambrose completely trusted his dad. “Okay!”
He happily ate his breakfast, feeling like even the chef’s meal tasted better today.
Ambrose carefully carried the big house into the school.
Before he even reached the classroom, he heard a chorus of exclamations
from inside.
“Wow, Malcolm, your house is so beautiful! It looks like a villa!”
Ambrose puffed out his chest and walked into the classroom with his chin up, confidently drawing the attention of his classmates.
“Ambrose, you’re here! Show us the big house your mom made. You said. you were going to win first place this time, right?”
Ambrose placed the box on the table and mysteriously lifted the lid, confidently saying, “Take a look. It’s nothing much. My dad just spent a few hours on it.”
But he didn’t hear the expected gasps and exclamations. He looked down at his craft project and his face changed.
This house was pitch black. Was this the surprise his dad and Mabel were planning to give him?
Ambrose felt utterly embarrassed.
Everyone burst into laughter.
“Ambrose, this house doesn’t look too great, does it? Can it win first place?”
“The last place is already reserved for you!”
Facing the teasing from the little kids, Ambrose frowned, his face turning red then pale; he had never felt so embarrassed in all his years of school.
How could his dad be so bad at crafts? Compared to Felicia’s work, it was like one was perfect and the other was terrible. Was this really made by his dad?
Meanwhile, Felicia signed her name on the divorce papers and asked the maid to mail them to the law firm..
Felicia believed that Seymour would soon receive the divorce petition.
summons.
By then, she would have completed her postpartum recovery. She hoped to smoothly finalize the divorce, cutting all ties with him.
Ambrose came home crying. At school, he felt so embarrassed that he held back his tears. He bit his lip and restrained himself until his family driver arrived to pick him up. Once in the car, he could no longer contain his emotions.
“Dad lied to me!”
The driver was caught off guard. “Mr. Ambrose, did someone at school bully you?”
Ambrose wanted to say yes, that a group of kids bullied him and laughed at the ugly handmade house he brought with him.
But he didn’t know how to say it. It was something his dad made for him. He didn’t get first place; instead, he got the last place.
Ambrose cried so intensely that he could barely breathe. This was the second time he missed his mom, after the last time he couldn’t eat his favorite food.
