"Kindly hold, Mrs. Gong," I excused myself, stepping away from the scrutinizing eyes of the society matrons.

At the gate, as children emerged into the waiting arms of parents, I stood poised, a silent observer. When Gong Jue appeared, Xie Weihuan positioned herself as a barrier. The teacher, momentarily unsure, inquired, "Your ID, if you please?"

Xie Weihuan fumbled, her façade slipping. Stepping forward, I presented the necessary credentials, "Today, Mrs. Gong assumes this duty."

With a nod, Gong Jue was released into Xie Weihuan's care, yet he bypassed her, seeking refuge in my embrace, his voice a blend of relief and joy, "Shuang Shuang."

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Xie Weihuan's clumsy intervention sent Gong Jue tumbling to the ground, his cry drawing a collective gasp from the onlookers.

The murmurs of disapproval grew as the teacher chastised Xie Weihuan for her harshness, her words amplifying the growing wave of criticism. "Such treatment is unbecoming of a mother, Mrs. Gong."

Amidst Gong Jue's tears, Xie Weihuan's semblance of control crumbled, her hasty retreat a silent concession to her defeat.

In that moment, as I cradled Gong Jue, the storm around us seemed to still, Xie Weihuan's fall from grace etched in the whispers of the crowd, marking the beginning of her unraveling.