In this way, another three years passed. My father wants to study abroad for half a year, so I go to my mother's house. This is my first time to my mother's house. They seem to be very excited. On the way to, I once thought, I will never pay attention to that man, never. Because only father is mother's happiness, that man, is not, and will never be. However, my childishness just proves my superficiality. When the door opened, I saw a familiar face and a face I had never met before. Those two faces are so matched that I can't bear to I called "Ma" and "Uncle" by the way, which was so hoarse and dry, but I tried to persuade myself to do so, because I didn't want to make my mother sad. He seemed a little surprised and rushed me into the room. He wanted to take my luggage, but I held it tightly, leaving no room. I look up at my mother. There is a strange look in her eyes. It seems to be guilt, it seems to be apology As soon as I let go, the luggage fell into his hands. He seemed to have completed a special task and was as happy as a child. He said the first sentence since I entered the house: "you talk first, I'll cook. This is your first time, anyway." I took a look at him. He went into the kitchen like a child who did something wrong. Mom made me a cup of tea and handed it to me. I said, "he's very kind to you." I felt a tremor in those hands. Mom whispered, "well, it's good." "That's good." I said. I felt for the first time that there seemed to be nothing to say between us.
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