I was in a car accident on my way to my son, Nathan’s piano competition. Ignoring my injuries, I limped to the venue just in time for the awards ceremony.

Nathan won the gold medal. With excitement shining in his eyes, he ran toward me. But as I smiled at him, he turned and placed the medal around the neck of my husband’s first love, Janine Beck.

My husband of ten years, Christopher Frost, looked at me with irritation. “Look at what you’re wearing! You’re filthy, like a beggar,” he said cruelly.

“Don’t come to Nathan’s celebration dinner tonight—he’s embarrassed by you!”

I stayed silent and went alone to the hospital to have my injuries checked. Later, I returned to the villa, drenched in the rain, only to find the doors locked against me.

I knocked on the door in the pouring rain for the entire night.

At dawn, when the first light broke across the sky, I sent Christopher a message: [Let’s get a divorce. As you wish, I will no longer be an eyesore in your lives.]

I took the villa’s front door key from my bag and gently slipped it under the doormat.

As I stepped outside, a message from Christopher appeared on my phone:

[Nathan says he wants pancakes from that shop in the south of the city.]

In the past, I would have hurried onto the subway without a second thought, picking up those pancakes along with a box of milk.

But now…

Without a moment's hesitation, I turned off my phone, pulled out the SIM card, and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

Using the Wi-Fi at a convenience store, I booked the earliest train ticket back to my hometown.

As I completed the payment, I received a notification that Christopher had started a voice call on a chat app. I accidentally pressed “accept.”

His irritated voice rang out:

[Where the hell did you disappear to? Aren’t you coming back?

[Nathan’s been asking for pancakes, and you didn’t even bother to get him any. He’s practically starving.

[You dare to develop a temper tantrum now? You demand a divorce and then ignore my message. I think—” His voice cut off abruptly as I hung up, my expression blank.

I blocked him without hesitation. Whatever it was, it no longer mattered.

I had left early the day before to buy Nathan’s favorite flowers.

Afraid of embarrassing him, I’d also gone out of my way to purchase an obscenely expensive dress.

However as fate would have it, on the way to his performance, I got into a serious car accident.

I crawled out of the overturned car and, despite the paramedics urging me to get checked, I ignored them and hurriedly jogged to the venue.

A large patch of skin had scraped off my forehead, and my knees and elbows were bloody.

Nathan didn’t care in the least.

He complained about my dirty clothes and my disheveled hair, but not once did he think to ask if I was in pain. I reached out to hug him, but he shoved me away.

“Get away! Don’t get your filth on my clothes!” he shrieked.

The disgust in his eyes stung.

Stunned, I stood frozen, watching as he linked arms with Janine Beck and walked away without a backward glance.

Christopher trailed behind them, and as he passed me, he deliberately shoved me aside, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Look at you—you're not even worth a single strand of Janine’s hair. No wonder Nathan wants nothing to do with you.”

A parent who knew me patted my shoulder and asked if I needed a ride to the hospital.

I held back tears, shook my head, and clutched the battered bouquet. I left on my own.

It wasn’t until I boarded the train and settled into my seat that I realized how hastily I’d walked away.

Glancing at the date on my phone, I noticed it was my birthday.

Ten years of marriage, and I’d spent every day tirelessly caring for Christopher and Nathan, never once celebrating my birthday—and naturally, no one else remembered it either.

When the train attendant passed with the snack cart, I picked out a small, unassuming slice of cake.

I hadn’t eaten all day, and my stomach growled in protest. But still, I placed the cake on the tray with quiet reverence, closed my eyes, and made a wish.

“From this day forward, I will live only for myself.”

As I opened my eyes, ready to take a bite, I glanced up and saw the little girl seated across me staring at the cake, her eyes wide with longing.

She swallowed, captivated by that small, imperfect slice—just like how my son Nathan used to gaze at treats when he was little, his eyes filled with innocent hunger.

I smiled softly and pushed the cake toward her.

She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, and within minutes, she devoured the entire slice.

A bit of cream lingered at the corner of her mouth.

I had rushed out without even grabbing a tissue, and I was about to turn to her parents but then I suddenly realized that she was by herself.

Confused, I asked her, “Are you alone? Where’s your mom?”

She pouted, her eyes reddening as she lowered her head.

“My mom got off the train yesterday with my little brother. She told me to stay seated until we reached the last stop, then someone would come get me.”

That’s when it hit me.

I asked the attendant for help, and after some investigation, I learned that the woman who had brought her on board had quietly gotten off hours earlier.

In other words, the little girl had been abandoned on the train.

As we neared the station, she clung to my leg. Tears were streaming down her face as she begged, “Miss, please! I heard children in foster care get beaten a lot. You look like my mom. Could you adopt me?”

I shook my head apologetically. I felt cruel for refusing her.

I didn’t have much to call my own, and the future was uncertain. I simply couldn’t afford to take on another child.

As I stepped off the train, I gave her one last, lingering look.

Her face was streaked with tears, but she forced a smile and waved at me.

My mother was waiting at the station.

The last time I saw her was three years ago when I brought Christopher home for my father’s funeral.

After all these years, I hadn’t realized how much she had aged. Her eyes no longer sparkled, and patches of gray had overtaken her hair.

She stood anxiously at the exit, scanning the crowd, and when she saw it was just me, the smile she had forced melted away.

Her lips trembled but the words never came.

Instead, with shaking hands, she pulled me into her arms and began stroking my head, just like when I was little.

In her embrace, I suddenly couldn’t hold it in any longer and broke down in sobs.

After years of sacrifice and giving up so much to bear a child who nearly cost me my life, the pain was unbearable. It was tearing me apart.

My mother didn’t say a word.

She gently patted my back and patiently waited for me to cry it out.

Only when I had finally quieted down did she take my hand, hail a taxi, and lead me home.

As we passed a phone shop, I asked the driver to wait and quickly bought a new SIM card.

When I turned the phone on, several WhatsApp messages popped up.

It was a message from Nathan. My finger hovered over the delete button for a long moment, and in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to press it.

I figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep them. After all, I still needed to handle the divorce proceedings with Christopher.

I opened the voice messages he’d sent.

Each one was arrogant and rude as if he were barking orders at a housekeeper.

[Mom, where are my socks?

[Where’s my jacket?

[You’re such an idiot. Dad said if you don’t come back, he’s divorcing you!]

I calmly paused the conversation and rested my head on my mother’s shoulder.

I closed my eyes to collect my thoughts.

Then my phone blared sharply. I glanced down to see Nathan’s name flashing on the screen.

I didn’t feel any desire to answer it as it continued buzzing in my hand.

But Nathan was determined. After several attempts, my mother looked at me, hesitation mirrored in her eyes.

“Is it Nathan? That child has always been so stubborn. Still… I think you should pick it up.”

I sighed and answered the call.

Perhaps it was the long wait, but Nathan sounded cold and impatient.

“When are you coming back? Didn't you know I couldn’t find my backpack this morning and almost missed school?”

“And what about the craft project you promised to help me with? If you don’t come back to finish it, I’ll have Dad—”

“Nathan.”

I interrupted him softly, his incessant complaints grating on my nerves.

“Listen carefully: your father and I are getting a divorce, and I won’t be coming back.

“Besides, you’re already eight. Can you stop acting like a little kid who depends on everyone for everything?

“From now on, you’ll have to stand on your own.”

My voice was cold but my heart ached.

It was the kind of pain that comes when something precious is ripped away from you.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. So long, in fact, that I thought Nathan had hung up.

“Why? You gave birth to me, so why do you get to decide whether or not to be my mother?” he yelled suddenly.

I let out a bitter laugh.

Why?

He must have forgotten.

On Nathan’s eighth birthday, at the party I had spent months preparing for, both Janine and I had brought birthday cakes for him.

I had gotten the one he liked best—a Superman-themed cake—while Janine’s was just a plain fruit cake she had picked up on a whim.

I had eagerly presented my cake to him, but after a glance, he knocked it over.

He furrowed his brow and looked at me with disdain.

“Mom, I’m grown up now. Who still likes Superman? How childish!”

I stared at the cream splattered on my skirt, fighting back the tears.

A month ago, when Janine hadn’t returned yet, he had cried for a long time because I refused to buy him the Superman figurine on display in the store window.

I gathered my emotions and, when I looked up, I saw him smiling sweetly as he accepted the plain, undecorated cake from Janine.

He leaned into Janine’s embrace, his voice sugary as he said, “Thank you, Miss Janine, I love it so much!”

Christopher also put his arm around Janine’s shoulder and gazed at them adoringly.

They looked like the picture-perfect family, and I was just a bystander.

At that moment, I felt utterly disillusioned.

Ten years of love, eight years of raising Nathan, and to them, I was worth nothing.

At the peak of the birthday celebration, he made a solemn wish as he blew out the candles.

Some family members joked, asking what wish he had made.

“I wished for Mom to disappear, and for Miss Janine to be my new mom,” he said in a serious tone.

Caught off guard, my smile froze on my face.

I forced myself to keep up the facade until the end of the party.

No one knew how lonely and bitter I felt that day.

Yet now, he dared ask me why.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice.

“Nathan, do you remember your birthday wish?” I asked.

“You chose to give up on me, not the other way around. From now on, I won’t disturb you anymore. Please, don’t bother me again.”

The words came out harsher than I intended, and through the phone, I could hear his desperate, sobbing breaths.

In the past, I would have felt heartbroken, but now, I only feel irritated.

Just as I was about to hang up, Christopher’s voice burst through the receiver.

“What the heck, Zoey? Do you have to treat Nathan like that?

“Is that what a wife and mother should be doing? Why do you always act so impulsively?”

I suddenly found it all so laughable.

I had merely given them what they wanted, letting them pursue the life they desired.

So why were they still blaming me?

“Christopher, do you remember last month, on our wedding anniversary, when I waited for you at the restaurant I had booked three months in advance?

“I waited until they closed. Do you remember your excuse for not showing up that day?”

I took a deep breath before continuing.

“You told me you had work, but then I saw your smug face in Janine’s Instagram post.

“She thanked you for rescuing her from that huge, terrifying cockroach, so late at night.”

I fell silent, and on the other end, he did too.

After a long pause, he finally gritted his teeth and spoke.

“Well Zoey, if you’re really going to divorce me, don’t dare come crawling back to me later!”