My wife was busy filming on set and said our daughter was delaying her work, so she asked me to come pick her up.
I dropped everything and rushed over, but I arrived too late. I could only watch in horror as a car struck my daughter, sending her flying through the air.
When we got to the hospital, the doctors declared her dead on arrival.
I knelt there, holding my daughter's lifeless body, pleading with the doctors for a miracle. Meanwhile, my wife's ex-boyfriend posted on Instagram, "I always knew I was your number one. No one else matters as much!"
Even after our daughter was laid to rest, my wife insisted on digging up her ashes to make room for her dog.
"Whose ashes are these? How dare they take up space that belongs to my dog!"
***
On the day of our daughter's burial, it poured rain.
After the final handful of dirt was placed on her grave, I sent a message to Sophie, "Let's get a divorce!"
We were burying our daughter, Emma Johnson—affectionately called Emma, but Sophie often preferred to call her by her full name.
Sophie didn't love me and rarely shared her affection with Emma.
Sophie and I were college classmates at the local film academy, but while she studied acting, I focused on directing and screenwriting.
During our university years, Sophie frequently graced the covers of entertainment magazines due to her beauty. She later gained widespread acclaim for a solo dance performance in the desert, hailed by the media as "the only jasmine blooming in the vast sands."
Of course, her most publicized relationship was with the wealthy heir Ethan Hunter.
They met at a glamorous industry event, where she was captivated by his handsome demeanor, and he was drawn to her ethereal beauty.
From that moment on, she became his muse, and he transformed from a carefree playboy into a devoted partner. They unabashedly displayed their affection in front of cameras, showcasing their love to the world.
However, this extravagant display eventually caught the attention of Ethan's family.
He was soon arranged to be set up with another woman and engaged in a lavish ceremony.
During that tumultuous time, Sophie fell into despair, failing several mandatory courses at the end of the semester and spending her days drowning her sorrows in bars.
It was then that I stepped in as her senior, giving her a stern talking-to and urging her to return to school.
Though she resisted at first, she eventually returned.
From that point on, our relationship grew closer but remained platonic—friends but never lovers—until Ethan's wedding invitation arrived in Sophie's hands.
Tears mixed with raindrops streamed down her face as she looked at me and said, "Kyle, I know you've always had feelings for me. Let's get married!"
At twenty-two, we entered into marriage.
Given her celebrity status, our wedding was a secret affair—something I completely understood.
By twenty-six, Sophie had given birth to Emma.
But just after her postpartum recovery, she rushed back to filming.
At that moment, my phone buzzed with two messages.
"Kyle, what's wrong with you? Are you trying to sabotage my work?"
"Just take care of yourself and Emma; I'll come home when I can."
As I stared blankly at her texts, I heard a familiar voice nearby.
"Ethan, don't be sad. Even though the baby is gone, you still have me by your side."
A young woman in a flowing white dress approached, intertwining her delicate fingers with Ethan's arm as they walked together.
He held a cardboard box containing a small white Pomeranian puppy with its eyes closed.
It was unmistakably my wife Sophie with her first love Ethan.
Ethan looked heartbroken, "Sophie, knowing that our baby had such a wonderful mother like you to take care of its affairs is the greatest comfort."
To anyone unaware of the situation, it would seem she was referring to Emma as "the baby."
Sophie cared far more for that puppy than she ever did for Emma.
She would splurge on premium dog food and toys whenever she traveled abroad while dressing Emma in cheap clothes from street vendors. "Children don't need anything extravagant; they shouldn't be spoiled at such a young age!" she would say.
She missed every one of Emma's birthdays and parent-teacher meetings and would dismiss Emma whenever she tried to follow in her footsteps.
Sophie continued to console Ethan until our eyes locked across Emma's grave.
2In an instant, anger flooded the woman's eyes. "Kyle, are you really following me during my work hours?"
I ignored her and placed the bouquet of daisies I had brought on Emma's grave.
My silence only fueled Sophie's rage. "Kyle! How could I have been so blind to think I could be with a loser like you?"
I couldn't help but smirk inwardly. Yes, how had I not seen it before?
With a cold voice, I replied, "Sophie, let's find a time to get a divorce."
"Fine, but Emma is my daughter. I want custody. I'm afraid if she's with you, she'll starve!"
I didn't respond and walked straight out of the cemetery.
Just as I stepped outside, I heard the sound of digging behind me.
"This spot is nice; it's a good resting place for the baby," someone said.
Turning around, I saw two figures digging up the grave, revealing a dark red urn just barely exposed.
Sophie recoiled, covering her nose. "Who put this here? It's so unlucky!"
Ethan comforted her with a gentle pat on the back and reached for the urn, preparing to toss it away.
The urn sailed through the air in a graceful arc, its lid popping open mid-flight, scattering Emma's ashes across the ground like confetti.
In that moment, something inside me shattered completely.
I dropped to my knees, desperately trying to gather the ashes back together.
The rain poured down heavily, threatening to wash away the very soil of the cemetery.
Just as I managed to scoop some ashes into my hands, the rain washed them away, spilling through my fingers and merging with the mud below.
Sophie watched my futile attempts and snapped in frustration, "This isn't even your child's ashes! What are you doing?"
3Ethan had just buried the Pomeranian puppy when he laughed mockingly.
"Sophie, your husband is just a nice guy! He thinks you like him this way, but little does he know, we got back together three years ago!"
A wave of shock washed over me, quickly followed by a deep sense of disappointment.
So they had reconciled long ago. No wonder Sophie had been spending less time at home and seemed indifferent to Emma and me.
As Ethan spoke, he looked at me with smug satisfaction, even mouthing the words "coward" in my direction.
I didn't care about his provocations, but he seemed addicted to taunting me, "Just divorce Sophie, and who knows? When your daughter grows up, I might even arrange a marriage for her with someone from the Hunter family. If that doesn't work out, she could always be a mistress."
At that moment, I could no longer contain my anger. My hands clenched tightly at my sides.
With one swift punch, I sent Ethan staggering to the side, his face twisting from the impact.
Although I had given up directing, I hadn't been idle; I had started a construction business.
The physical work had kept me fit, and Ethan was no match for me. A few more punches, and he was down for the count.
Once he regained his bearings, his eyes widened in disbelief. "Kyle, you dare hit me?!"
"I'm hitting you because you deserve it."
Sophie watched in horror, her eyes welling with tears as she shouted at me, "Kyle, are you insane? Just wait! We're definitely getting a divorce!"
I didn't argue; there was no point.
Sophie rushed to help Ethan up. "Kyle, I command you to apologize to Ethan right now! Otherwise, you'll regret it."
"Ethan just lost his baby; he's upset! Is it really worth it to go this far?"
I felt an overwhelming despair. When did the victim have to apologize to the perpetrator?
With a bitter smile on my lips, I shot back, "And what about you? Have you ever been a good mother to Emma?"
"You rushed back to filming just after giving birth! But instead of caring for Emma during her transition from breastfeeding to formula, you were off vacationing with your first love!"
"You skipped every parent-teacher meeting because you were scared of being photographed by the media. But what about her birthday? Surely we wouldn't have been seen at home together?"
"Every time Emma came to visit you on set, you'd leave her with your assistant while you lounged in an air-conditioned van."
"Shut up!" Sophie interrupted angrily. "Everything I do is for Emma's future! If I don't work hard, how will we survive? Can I rely on you—a jobless man—to support us both? On a stormy day like this when Emma is terrified of thunder, you left her alone at home!"
"Regardless of what happens, she's my flesh and blood! After the divorce, she should be with me."
With that, Sophie pulled out her phone and called her assistant. Whatever was said on the other end made her expression darken further.
"That's impossible! What are you talking about? Emma was perfectly fine just five days ago; how could she possibly be dead?"
Sophie couldn't take it anymore and hung up the phone.
She shot me several furious glares. "I've never met a more disgusting man than you! To fight for custody of our daughter, you would stoop so low as to claim she's dead!"
Ethan stepped in at the right moment, gently placing a hand on her back and soothingly saying, "Don't listen to him; just treat it like a dog bite. Come on, let's go find a place to clear your head."
"Wait."
Sophie suddenly seemed to remember something and steadied herself. "Ethan, I need to handle a few things with him first. You go ahead."
She redialed her assistant, her voice trembling as she asked, "I'll ask you one more time: Is it true that Emma was hit by a car?"
Her assistant replied flatly, "Yes, it's true. Emma has passed away and was reported buried at South City Cemetery, plot 109."