It was a hot summer day. My husband told my father that he wanted some watermelons my father grew back at my hometown.

Dad rode his tricycle into town under the scorching sun, and collapsed because of heatstroke on his way.

My father was about to draw his last breath when I finally made it to the hospital.

"Chris wanted some melons I planted. Remember to take them over to him..."

After finishing that sentence, Dad closed his eyes forever.

I called Chris only to hear him grumble, "Where's Dad already? We're still waiting for his watermelons!"

And Annabella snatched his phone and spoke to me aggrievedly, "Please don't be mad, Eileen. We were betting that your father is willing to do whatever Chris tells him to do..."

That night, I received a text message from Chris.

"Dad made me lose the bet, and consequently I have to take Bella to the countryside on a vacation."

I felt dead inside.

It was not until I had taken care of everything about Dad that Chris returned home, exhausted.

He slumped down into the sofa and ordered me, "Go cut me some slices of watermelon."

My father had been taking care of his orchards and fields in the countryside, and he would bring us some fruits and vegetables that he grew himself from time to time.

If it were the past, I would prepare for Chris a plate of fruits without him asking me.

But I ignored his words this time without even looking at him.

Seeing that I didn't respond, Chris asked acidly, "Are you angry?

Blame Dad for not keeping his word if you really want to find someone to blame! He promised to bring me watermelons, but I never saw any single slice of watermelon that day at her birthday party!"

"Do you know how embarrassed I felt that night?

A bet is a bet, and I'm a good loser. I promised Bella that I'd take her on a vacation if we failed to have watermelons that day, and I don't break my promises."

My father lost his life trying to bring Chris the watermelons he wanted, and he was still worrying about Chris until the very last moment of his life, yet Chris was here blaming my father for not bringing him the watermelons in time...

Resisting the urge to slap him in the face, I questioned, "You were celebrating her birthday in your air-conditioned room while telling my father to bring you some mere fruit from that far away in the hot sun? Surely you do have a conscience, don't you?"

Chris begged to differ, "Dad loves me; he won't mind."

Realizing that I could never see my father’s gentle smile again, I felt my eyes reddened.

Seeing that I was about to cry, Chris's tone softened as he tossed me a plastic bag.

"Cool down, please. Here's a gift for you."

I took out what was inside the bag; it was a vintage-looking hand fan.

Chris continued, "It goes well with your dresses, doesn't it? I bought it from a local craftsman in the country especially for you."

However, I happened to have seen this fan in a picture Annabella posted online yesterday.

"Thanks to a certain someone for this new fan. Forgive me for always loving me something new" was what she posted alongside a selfie of herself acting all cutesy while holding a fashionable fan in her hand.

The fan in my hand right now was lying inside a trash can next to her in her photo.

Did Chris actually pick up some garbage that Anabella didn't want and give it to me as a gift?

As it finally turned out, a perfunctory performance of nicety was what he believed to be enough for his own wife.

I threw the fan into the trash can and replied to him in a cold, decisive tone, "We are divorcing, Chris."

His face darkened as he sneered, "When did you become this snob, Eileen? You should put a limit on your jealousness, you know?"

"Do you seriously want to divorce me because of something this trivial? I don't mind divorcing, but think about how Dad would feel about this!"

He actually had the nerve to mention Dad? My kind-hearted and honest Dad had lost his precious life because of what Chris deemed "trivial"!

I really didn't want to waste any more time to him; even breathing the same air with him in the same room became so unbearable!

I emerged out of the bedroom carrying my luggage that I had packed long ago, and threw in front of him the divorce settlement I drafted.

"Sign this, Chris Shawn, and we'll arrange a time for all other procedures."

Finishing that sentence, I disregarded his expression of disbelief and walked out of my former home without looking back.

I took my father's ashes back to where I grew up.

The hustles and bustles of the world dropped away at my hometown with its beautifully serene hills and waters.

My father's field lay just opposite my family house.

Looking at the mellow fruitfulness, I couldn't help but envision my father's busy figure in the fields before collapsing and bursting into a rage of tears.

My father is a genuine, simple, and hardworking countryman who built up a fortune by growing fruits and vegetables.

I lost my mother when I was very young, and it was my father with whom I grew up.

Once, my father ran into a bunch of hooligans looking for trouble while taking his watermelons into town.

There were too many of them. Not only did they smash my father's melons, but they threatened him to hand over all the money he had on him as well.

It was Chris Shawn, who happened to be passing by, who called the police in time and rescued him before taking him back home in person.

Dad was very grateful to Chris and invited him to stay for dinner, which led to my first meeting with him.

At that time, I just started college while he was about to graduate.

He refused to inherit his family business back home and thus was kicked out by his parents.

It was Dad who took Chris in during that time when he had no place to live.

Besides providing him with food and clothing, Dad used all his savings to support him to start his own business.

Chris didn't let Dad down; his business flourished in no more than two years.

Chris' parents, regretting their decision, acknowledged their son's capability and welcomed him back in a most magnificent manner.

Never did Chris forget my Dad's support and help, though.

He would show up at my family's field whenever he had time to help my Dad, while my Dad treated him like a son.

On the day I graduated from college, Chris came to pick me up in a fancy car with a bouquet of flowers.

He spoke to me sincerely in front of my classmates, "I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you. Would you be my girlfriend?"

"I want to be present for you in your life together with your Dad, and when the time comes, I want to join you in taking care of your Dad."

"I want to be a family with you."

In fact, I had already developed some secret feelings for him in these four years; it was because of the difference between our origins that I never dared to reveal my feelings to him.

The prospect of what he meant by "a family" moved me so much at that time, and Dad was also very happy that we loved each other.

We got married not long after that.

Chris wanted to invite Dad into the city and have him live with us, but Dad was reluctant to leave his field.

And Chris would take me back to the countryside every weekend.

He was very nice to me, and he loved my Dad like his own father.

At that time, I felt that I was the happiest soul on earth.

However, half a year ago, Annabella Glen returned from abroad, and everything changed.

I only learnt later that Bella was Chris' first crush who left him and went abroad at his lowest time.

Now that she was back, Chris became obsessed with her.

"Bella has a broken bulb. I'll go change it for her, and you can have dinner yourself."

"Bella's not feeling well. I'll take her to the hospital, so we can't celebrate our anniversary this year."

"Bella invited me to go boating this weekend. You'll have to go and see Dad by yourself this week."

"Bella's not a particularly tough girl, and she doesn't have anyone to take care of her. You should know better and let it go."

I knew that Chris had a change of heart, yet I didn't want Dad to worry about me, so whenever he asked why Chris wasn't with me, I would tell him that he was too busy with work.

I was as considerate to Chris as ever, believing that I could make him come around by treating him with sincere love.

I wanted to defend my marriage and spare Dad's feelings.

Yet my tolerance time and time again only resulted in their increasing insatiability.

I placed Dad's urn in his favorite cabin.

Dad built this cabin and stored in it the fruit wine he made himself, and we would enjoy a few drinks on the weekends we spent together.

I had just contacted Uncle Anderson, who was in charge of the burial, when Chris showed up.

Following him was Annabella, who was holding a puppy in her arms.

Chris had a wander around the house before asking, "Where's Dad?"

I glared at him, "How dare you mention Dad now?"

Chris frowned while containing his anger and said, "It's too hot in the city. Annabella wanted several days of country life, so I took her here to stay at Dad's."

It was not a question, but a statement.

A wave of anger came over me, but before I could say anything, Chris continued, "It'd be nice if Dad can get us some fresh fruit and his fruit wine for Bella."

I spat at him fiercely, "Piss off! Both of you!"

Annabella looked terrified. She hid behind Chris and muttered displeasedly, "Eileen is being so rude. She doesn't deserve Chris at all."

Chris retorted in a tone of warning, "Enough, Eileen! Dad said I could treat this house and this field like they're my home, and I can do whatever I want here!"

Annabella looked at me with an aggressive smile in her eyes, "I understand how you feel, Eileen. Chris has always been out of your league, so it's only natural that you're so conscious about personal gains and losses.

Besides, isn't your Dad nice to Chris because of his family fortune and his usefulness?"

"Don't worry, I won't be a freeloader. Ask your Dad to give me a number, and I'll willingly pay every penny."

Her words were full of innuendo; I couldn't tolerate her slandering Dad like that. I was about to drive them away with a broom when the sound of something shattering rang out inside the cabin.

I hurried into the cabin, only to see the puppy Annabella brought with her making a fuss on the table. The jars of fruit wine and my father's urn, which I placed on the table, were shattered on the ground, with a mixture of ash and wine splashed all over the place.

Before I could recover from my grief and anger, Bella rushed inside and picked up her puppy, "Oh, this place is a mess. Are you hurt, puppy?"

She did all that while trampling my father's ashes!

I couldn't stand it anymore and ran over and slapped her hard.

The next moment, Chris pushed me away with great force.

I lost balance and hit my stomach on the corner of the table by my side, the great pain almost making me breathless.

Chris's eyes burnt with anger,

"How dare you hit Bella? Is that how Dad raised you, Eileen? Looks like countrymen never learn!"

His face was full of disgust with no trace of its past gentleness.

Uncle Anderson, who was in charge of Dad's burial, showed up at this time. Looking at all the mess in front of him, he was shocked and angry.

"It's your old man as well we're talking about, right, Chris? How can you do something as wicked as this?"

Chris looked puzzled, "What do you mean, Uncle? A few jars of fruit wine broke; that's all."

"Fruit wine? That's your Dad's ashes on the ground!"

Chris turned extremely pale in disbelief upon hearing this, "What...?"