I don’t know when my parents stopped communicating and listening. They would start quarreling whenever they talked. My mother was dissatisfied with my father who always pretended to be a good person outside. She smiled brightly while pushing wheelchairs for the Filipino maids in the atrium, pressing the elevator and carrying shopping bags. As soon as I get home, I will just be arrogant and have a bad face. It is conceivable that the two of them have...