I had harmed Emily, and my sin was unforgivable.
That moment, my heart froze completely.
I bit down so hard on my lip that blood seeped out before I finally forced the words out.
“Divorce.”
His fingers jolted, as if he hadn’t heard me right.
“What did you say?”
I looked at him, all emotion gone from my eyes.
“I said, we’re getting divorced.”
Daniel froze on the spot for a full thirty seconds before a mocking smile twisted his mouth.
“Fine. I was already sick of you anyway.”
That was the truth, wasn’t it?
I lowered my gaze, saying nothing more.
Because I knew—no matter what I said, I would never win against Emily.
In his eyes, I was always the one in the wrong.
I deleted every contact, booked the earliest flight out of Seattle, and vanished.
For months I lived in a daze, until I met the man who is now my husband. We soon got our marriage license.
And I finally picked up my old profession again, finding a fulfilling job at a well-known design firm.
Life became peaceful.
The name Daniel Hughes had long since faded from my memory.
I downed a glass of whiskey in one gulp.
My throat burned, my head began to swim.
“I thought you were allergic to alcohol. You never drank,” Linda asked curiously.
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I got over it.”
After the divorce, I had drowned myself in alcohol.
One time, an allergic reaction nearly killed me in the ER.
It was my current husband who dragged me back from death’s door.
Since then, the allergy somehow vanished.
Linda suddenly raised her glass with a smile and drained it.
“Blame me. I only posted the reunion notice in our Facebook Alumni Group. I should’ve messaged you directly too.”
She shook her empty glass.
“This one’s my apology. Everyone, drink up.”
She led the toast, and the atmosphere quickly grew warm and lively again.
Still, after some hesitation, she couldn’t hold back her curiosity.
“Daniel Hughes is such an outstanding man. After the divorce… you’ve never regretted it?”
“From the way he looks at you, if you just said the word, he’d take you back in a heartbeat.”
Before I could answer, a video call came through from the nanny at home.
“Ma’am, when are you coming back? The little one won’t stop crying for you. Nothing we do works.”
The camera turned, and there was my chubby one-year-old daughter.
The moment she saw me, she stopped crying, scrunching up her little face and calling out in her baby voice:
“Mommy.”
