My family has long been unhappy. But to my parents-in-law, to the neighbors, to friends, my husband and I still have to wear masks. He is a successful man, wherever he goes he says he loves his wife and spoils his children. As for me, because of the family’s pride, because of my little daughter, because of my parents’ constant illness, I grit my teeth and endure, not saying a word.

In reality, he is a cold, patriarchal husband. When he comes home, he hardly does anything, and often scolds me loudly. There are nights when he leaves me alone in tears, but in the morning he still puts his arm around my shoulder and goes to parties with a smile. I call it a fake marriage.

After enduring for so many years, I’m used to it. I think my daughter is still young and probably doesn’t understand anything. I just hope that if I try a little harder, at least she won’t have to see the cracks in the family.

But I was wrong.

Last week, my 3rd grade daughter received the assignment: “Describe your father”. At night, my child was busy writing. I glanced at it and thought she would write some silly sentences like “My father is tall and big, my father loves me very much…”.

When I came to pick her up, the teacher gave me her essay. As soon as I read the first lines, my heart sank:

“My father is very busy, working all day. When he comes home, he often sits on his phone, doing nothing, rarely talking to my mother and me. He often yells at my mother, many times I see my mother crying but she doesn’t say anything. One day when I woke up, my father wasn’t home, my mother was sitting alone in the kitchen. I just hugged my mother because she said that made her happy. I wish my father was like my classmates’ fathers, who often take me out and talk happily with my mother. I just want to grow up quickly, earn a lot of money to take my mother far away, because I once heard my mother on the phone saying she wanted to go to a happy place…”
I bit my lip, tears welling up. My daughter was only 8 years old, but she had seen through everything. Every detail that seemed small, I tried to hide, it turned out that my child recorded it in my heart. The teacher advised me to pay more attention to my child.

That day when I got home, my daughter showed my husband the essay that the teacher had given me 9 points. After he read it, his face turned pale, and his parents-in-law sitting next to me were also stunned. Up until now, they always thought their son was perfect, and I was a woman who knew how to enjoy things without being grateful. Now, the child’s words revealed everything.

Strangely, I didn’t feel sad. I felt elated. Because in the end, I didn’t need to explain, didn’t need to complain. An innocent child spoke for me.

That night, I lay next to my child, holding her tightly in my arms. I would wait for my husband to correct me. Or maybe I would be brave enough to end this fake marriage sooner than planned. I believed that my daughter would understand and overcome this psychological shock.