On my daughter's fifth birthday, Yareli posted a photo on Instagram with the caption:

"Before bed, my little one was crying for her dad, and the wonderful dad immediately dropped his work to be there."

In the photo, the man next to her was none other than my husband—Sean Harrison.

I glanced at the message received ten minutes ago:

"There's something going on at the office tonight. You and Braelynn don't need to wait for me."

I liked the post, then called my divorce attorney.

---

Sean came home at two in the morning. The harsh light made me shield my daughter's eyes immediately. Sean leaned against the doorframe:

"Miriam, I'm back. Let's wake Braelynn, and I'll celebrate her birthday with her."

In the past, I cherished these family rituals deeply. Whether it was a birthday, Thanksgiving, anniversary, or a preschool event, I insisted Sean be involved. I didn't want Braelynn to go through what I did—only seeing her dad through videos on WhatsApp. But now—

I straightened the blanket and replied in a flat tone:

"No need."

A flicker of frustration crossed Sean's face:

"Miriam, I only went over to help Miguel sleep. Don't get the wrong idea."

"It's because you're always suspicious that I didn't dare tell you the truth."

I wasn't mistaken, and I wouldn't be jumping to conclusions in the future either.

"If there's nothing else, go to your room and let Braelynn sleep. She has school tomorrow."

Hearing my response, Sean let out a cold laugh:

"Suit yourself, but don't blame me later for missing out on Braelynn's growing up."

I turned off the light and gently patted my daughter, who was slightly disturbed. Missing out doesn't matter anymore, especially since Braelynn's birthday wish this year was:

"Not to see Dad again."

The next morning, Sean didn't rush out immediately after breakfast as he usually did. Instead, he sat watching the morning news. Just before leaving, he picked up the keys and walked over, gently touching Braelynn's head:

"Today, Daddy will take you."

His words were directed at our daughter, but his eyes were fixed on me. Two years ago, when Braelynn started preschool, Sean would drop her off every day. But after Yareli came into the picture, his departure times grew earlier. He claimed company meetings started earlier, leaving no time to drop off Braelynn.

I believed him until three months ago when Braelynn switched schools. At the school gate, I saw him. A man who should've been at the office was bending over to lift a little boy from the back seat.

It turned out he wasn't too busy to drop off Braelynn, he just had more important things to do. That night, we fought fiercely, and from the next day on, Braelynn never asked for her dad to take her again.

Even though I decided on a divorce, Sean was still Braelynn's father. After a moment's thought, I didn't refuse him.

He smirked slightly, bending down to pick up Braelynn.

As the car door opened, I was taken aback. The back seat was filled with things. Action figures, a toy bow and arrow, a woman's scarf... and behind the seat, hung a "family portrait."

Noticing my gaze, Sean's expression shifted slightly:

"Yareli hung it casually, said Miguel would feel happier seeing it."

"Don't make a fuss over something so trivial."

Earlier, I might have torn the portrait apart, crying and questioning Sean about what Braelynn and I meant to him. But now, I nodded:

"It's a nice photo."

Sean gave me a strange look:

"You're not upset?"

Upset? Perhaps I should be, but for some reason, there's no emotion inside me, only a faint urge to laugh. Such a clumsy tactic; how could the famously shrewd Sean Harrison not see through it? He simply didn't care.

"Better get going, Braelynn will be late."

Hearing my urging, Sean pursed his lips lightly and opened the driver's door.

I was about to lift Braelynn into the car when Sean's phone rang.

"I have a great dad, a great dad..."

On the other end, a little boy cried, heartbroken:

"Dad! Dad! Where have you gone?"

"Aren't you going to be with Miguel and Mom anymore?"

Hanging up the call, Sean didn't even glance at us before rushing into the car:

"Miguel's crying for me. Today, let the driver take you guys."

The sleek black Maybach sped away, and I knelt beside Braelynn, comforting her:

"Daddy has something to do today. Next time, when he has time, we'll have him take you to school, okay?"

Braelynn's face showed a maturity beyond her years:

"Daddy won't have time. All his time has to be for Miguel and his mom."

As dusk settled in, Sean called me:

"Hey Miriam, I'll be home late tonight. Miguel's sick..."

"Okay."

I agreed too quickly, and Sean hesitated, as if expecting more from me.

Thinking I was upset, he spoke with a touch of irritation: "Miriam, don't make this harder than it is."

With that, he hung up.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with several messages.

[Sorry, Miriam. Miguel's been really clingy to his dad lately.]

[But honestly, how could he drop everything and leave you and Braelynn as soon as I called?]

[I’ll talk to him about it, don’t be mad.]

The last one was accompanied by a laughing emoji.

It was from Yareli. Her texts felt more like a challenge than an apology.

I had no desire to engage in a rivalry over a man, so I quickly deleted and blocked her number.

Not long after, Sean called again.

"Miriam, what's going on with you? Yareli apologized, and this is your reaction?"

In the background, I could faintly hear the sounds of a woman and a child crying.

I stayed silent, and after an uncomfortable pause, his voice came through:

"Miriam, how did you turn into someone like this?"

"I'm really disappointed in you."

Even though Yareli was the one who instigated the conflict, her tears would always lead Sean to blame me, casting me as the villain.

When I got home, I began to pack my belongings.

As Sean kept calling, I was consulting with a lawyer. After the divorce, I was entitled to at least 30% of Harrison Ltd.'s shares, and considering our equal parenting skills, custody of Braelynn would likely be awarded to me.

With my last doubts gone, I sorted through my things. Clothes, handbags, jewelry, Braelynn’s favorite toys—all needed to be packed.

When I reached the final box, I paused for a moment, my hands trembling slightly as I broke the dust-covered seal.

Inside was a collection of love letters—from Sean, written from ages 17 to 22.

I picked up the letter on top.

It began:

"Hello, twenty-seven-year-old Miriam, this is seventeen-year-old Sean."

"This is my first love letter to you. As we promised, we’re opening this together in ten years."

"We're surely married by now, and perhaps we even have a beautiful child."

My phone rang. On the line was twenty-seven-year-old Sean:

"Miriam! Yareli took off with the kid, do you know anything? If they get into trouble, I'll never forgive you."

As he spoke, I read the closing line of the letter:

"Yours forever, Sean."

A sharp pain hit my chest, as if something tender had quietly shattered inside me.

I ended the call and threw the box into the fireplace.