My Alleged Husband

Chapter 1973: Chapter 1767: Obsession

We’ve both fallen into a paranoid black hole, whether you love me or not, I already know.

Old Master Zhang couldn’t understand why his own son said he was pushing all the responsibility onto her, was he really that kind of person? He had never thought of treating her like that, after all these were mistakes his own son had made, making it impossible for him to accept again and again. He had thought so many times about what he should do so that his son wouldn’t harbor so much hostility toward him, so much prejudice. Only now did he realize that deep down, his son had never truly wanted to come back to this home. Each time he came back, maybe it was only to satisfy a tiny sliver of hope in his heart. Deep down, he himself didn’t know what mattered more—maybe it was just that so‑called freedom of his!

Is freedom really that important? For the sake of freedom, you can give up your life ideals again and again; for the sake of freedom, you can repeatedly put your own family in danger, treat your own kin like a toy—take it when you want, throw it away when you want. For the sake of freedom, you make everything so unbearably difficult.

He truly didn’t understand what freedom was. Why do so many people, for the sake of freedom, abandon everything they used to have? What he had might be far more precious than freedom. If freedom is gone, you can live in another way, but if even your own family is gone, then how are you supposed to go on living? No one has ever really thought through what such an ending would be. Time and again they pile all the pain onto others, and no one ever really thinks about what choices they themselves ought to make, about what kind of hurt and hardship they are bringing upon their family. Why is everyone always so selfish, including himself—he has already become a numb and unfeeling person.

”I really can’t understand why you say I’m pushing all the responsibility onto you. Have you never thought about how much your words and actions have chilled my heart? I’m not asking for much. You’re my son—so long as you can be happy, can live joyfully, that is such a blessing for me as your father, do you have any idea? But you’ve never once understood my heartfelt sincerity. You always force your own way of thinking onto me. You think everything you do is right. And what about me? Does that mean everything I do is wrong? Are all the efforts I’ve made for your sake, every time, really so unworthy of even a single glance from you?

If, deep down, you still truly see me as your, oh, father, then please, think carefully: what does it all amount to? Given what you’ve done, where does that leave me? What have you taken every single person in this family for? No one here owes you anything, yet every single one of them has been tolerating you because of the mistakes you’ve made!

Not a single day have you truly recognized your own mistakes. For every single thing you do, you always feel you are in the right. But you—have you ever thought about whether what you’ve done is actually right or wrong? Have you ever considered how unforgivable those repeated mistakes of yours really are?

Sometimes I truly can’t comprehend the way you think. I can hardly believe you are my child. How could my child do the things you’ve done? Why would you treat me, your father, in this way? Am I really the one who is wrong? Or is it that, in your eyes, none of this is even worth mentioning?

Wherever and whenever, I’ve always hoped that when you do things, you could at least think about whether your family will be hurt by what you say and do. No matter what, you are my child. No matter what you have done, you will always be my child. As a father I should bear the responsibility of guiding you. I let you keep making mistakes again and again; again and again, when you needed me most, I failed to stand by your side. That alone already proves my incompetence as a father. Back then, it’s true, it was I who hard‑heartedly shut you out. But now so many years have passed, why do you still cling to it in your heart, unable to let it go? You hold on to everything, gripping it all tight and never releasing it. Do you really think you’ll be happy that way, that you’ll feel blessed, feel joy?

Sometimes I silently ponder deep inside: if one day, as your father, I leave you and disappear forever from this world, would you, as my son, feel any pain in your heart over my departure? I so desperately hope you can be happy, yet every time I see what you do, how you hurt your own family, do you know how much it hurts me inside, as your father, as the head of this family? We are clearly one family, and yet we have to tear each other apart.”

”Do you think I want us to tear each other apart? What has been the original intention behind everything I’ve done? Don’t you know, deep down? You are my father—have you ever really felt how much it hurts in the depths of my heart? I also hope my family can be happy, can be blessed, but not a single thing I do seems able to make you happy. You always feel everything I do is wrong. If that’s the case, why do you keep shouldering all the joy and all the pain yourself again and again? Shouldn’t you also be living happily, cheerfully? Why are you living so exhaustingly? Isn’t it because you hope our whole family can be happy, joyful? But in the end, everything I do only ends up breaking your heart. Then how can you possibly be happy? I really don’t know whether my coming back to this home was right or wrong. I do want to be cheerful, to keep living on in this family, yet if you cannot be happy, cannot find joy, then the very reason I came back to this home no longer exists!

Ever since I came back, everything I’ve done in this family has been wrong. I’ve hurt every single person’s heart. I don’t understand what meaning there is in what I’ve done. Time and again, what I wanted only ended up hurting you all. But what about me? Even though I’ve been very happy during this period, I’ve also been constantly enduring your interrogation of me—interrogating me as if I were a criminal—and yet I still feel happy and content. This kind of life is something I’ve never experienced in all these years. I’m so desperate for this kind of life to remain just as it is, even if I have to be scolded every day, I can still laugh, happily, blissfully!”

All I want is just a gentle hug from you—do you understand or not, that all my confusion began with your silence?