My husband has never truly let go of his first love.

I thought that after so many years of marriage and having a beautiful daughter together, I could warm his heart.

But the moment Cindy Smith returned to the country, not only did she turn my marriage into a joke, but she also made my daughter into a cold, lifeless body.

"A daughter can always be born again, but Cindy can't be left alone."

Looking at the man I had loved for ten years, my heart finally shattered.

***

My husband's first love, Cindy, returned to the country.

Ever since her return, my husband has been distant, his attention to our home reduced to mere formalities.

He often claimed he was working late, but in reality, he was spending time with Cindy.

Even our seven-year-old daughter noticed something was wrong.

"Mom, why does Dad never come home? What is he going to get me for my birthday this year?"

I gently stroked her head and said, "Nina, why don't you call him and tell him what you want?"

Nina happily picked up the phone and dialed her dad.

When he answered, Norman Best's impatient voice came through.

"Stop calling me all the time! Do you have any idea how annoying that is?"

"Daddy~" Nina sweetly called out.

There was a moment of silence, and his tone softened.

"Nina, what's up? Why are you calling Daddy?"

"Tomorrow is my birthday! Did you order my swan cake? I want a swan cake!"

Hearing her request, Norman promised he would pick her up from school the next day and celebrate her birthday with her.

I thought that once he came home, we could have a proper conversation.

The next day, I prepared a big meal at home, but he never brought our daughter back for dinner.

I called him multiple times, but each call was cut off. A growing sense of unease began to creep over me.

I called his assistant, who hesitated before finally admitting that he hadn't picked up our daughter. Instead, he had gone to Cindy's house. It was her birthday as well.

But what about Nina? Was she still waiting for her father at school? Panic set in, and I grabbed my car keys, rushing to the school.

However, when I arrived, there was no sign of my daughter.

Like a madwoman, I searched the school grounds, calling out her name over and over again, but the empty gates held no trace of her.

The fear inside me intensified, and with trembling hands, I kept dialing my husband's number, but the only response I got was the automated voice telling me the call had been rejected.

I went to the police station to file a report, and with their help, I was able to watch the surveillance footage from the school gates.

In this surveillance video, I saw my daughter standing alone at the school gate waiting for her father, and she kept looking around in the bustling crowd.

As people gradually left, a black car pulled up in front of her. The driver seemed to say something to her, and after nodding, she got into the car.

Seeing this, my heart filled with terror.

"That's not my husband's car. I don't know that driver. Please, you have to help me find her! Please!" I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, dropping to my knees and begging the officers like a lunatic.

The officers reassured me that they would do everything to find her, urging me to stay calm.

While I was waiting for the police to finish their search, I kept calling and messaging Norman. But he neither replied nor answered my call.

I couldn't believe it. In the face of his first love, our daughter meant nothing to him.

I recalled how Nina used to call him "Daddy" with such sweetness, and how he would beam with pride, showing her off to everyone, carrying her on his back and promising to spoil her like a princess.

I believed him. I really thought he loved our daughter.

It wasn't until today that I realized that his love for our daughter was nothing compared to the affection he still held for his first love.

After searching for hours, the police finally found Nina in an abandoned building.

But they asked me to be mentally prepared.

"What do you mean by mental preparation?!" I stared at their grave expressions, my heart racing as my legs gave way beneath me.

I forced myself to move, slowly, toward the abandoned building.

The walk felt like an eternity, and when I finally reached it, I was barely able to stand.

There, lying on the floor, was my daughter, eyes closed as if she were peacefully asleep. But her limbs were twisted in unnatural positions, as if they belonged to someone else, haphazardly placed on her small body.

"Nina! Nina!" I screamed, wanting to rush to her and hold her close, but the officers held me back, warning me not to disturb the scene.

"What scene?! She's just sleeping! I need to wake her up!" I yelled, desperately trying to convince myself that she was only unconscious.

But then I saw the dried blood near a wound on her head. My voice trembled, "She's hurt! Someone help her, please!" I could hardly hear my own shaking voice.

The officers pulled me aside, trying to comfort me, but their words fell on deaf ears. I stood there, paralyzed, watching as the coroner approached to examine her. I couldn't say a word.

I don't know how I made it home, or how I managed to fall asleep. All I remember is waking up clutching a photo of Nina in my arms, her bright smile holding a teddy bear her father had given her.

The police returned her school bag to me. I opened it and found an essay she had written titled "My Dear Mom and Dad." It had earned top marks.

Through tears, I smiled. I knew she had been so proud of this essay and had wanted to show it to her dad. But she never got the chance to get her father's reading and praise.

That night, Norman finally came home.

He looked happier than I'd ever seen him, with a spring in his step that I had never known.

That expression of satisfaction and joy, so evident on his face, made it painfully clear how much fun he had been having with Cindy, how completely he had forgotten about our daughter.

Not only did he come home, but he also brought Cindy with him.

"Yesterday was her birthday, and she's sick. She's all alone here without family, so I went to take care of her," he explained, a bit guilty.

I sat on the couch, staring blankly as they walked into the living room, watching as he called me to greet his guest.

Seeing me remain silent, Norman grew irritated and walked over, his voice cold. "All those calls you made yesterday, over and over, like a crazy person. Do you have any idea how many times you called? Was that really necessary?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you two, but I had no one else to turn to. Norman is the only one I can rely on," Cindy said softly, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

I could see the smug satisfaction in her eyes. In the past, I might have cared. But now... I simply didn't have the energy.

Of course, I knew she was doing it on purpose. I had seen the photos she posted on social media, flaunting their time together. How could I not know?

But I no longer had the strength to care about such petty games.

Seeing my indifference, Cindy wasn't satisfied. "Where's Nina? Norman mentioned her to me. I've been wanting to meet her for a long time. I feel bad for missing her birthday, so I brought a gift to make up for it."

Cindy glanced at the photo of Nina on the table. "She's so cute." With that, she reached out to pick up the photo, but I snatched it away from her.

"Don't touch her! You have no right to touch her!" I snapped, my voice cold. If it weren't for her, would Norman have forgotten his promise to pick up our daughter?

"Mandy, what are you doing?" Norman frowned and walked over, his face full of displeasure as he looked at me with disdain.

"Can't you be more mature? She just wants to see a picture of our daughter. What's the big deal?" He grabbed the photo from my hands and handed it to Cindy.

I stood there, stunned, finally realizing that the one I should truly resent was not Cindy, but Norman. If he hadn't been so focused on seeing his first love, would he have forgotten to pick up our daughter?

Even if he couldn't make it, why didn't he call me and let me know? In the end, compared to his first love, our daughter didn't matter at all.

"Mandy, where's Nina? Why I don't see her? Is she already asleep?" Norman asked, pushing open her bedroom door and not finding her. He turned back to me, looking confused. "Where's Nina?"

Hearing Nina's name, I instinctively looked up at him. He still hadn't bothered to read the messages I sent him. It was laughable. He even didn't see my messages.

I watched them both looking at me with innocence and confusion, as if I was the third party who destroyed their family.

I knew they had once been in love, and I also knew they had parted ways out of spite, each marrying someone else.

When I learned that my arranged match was him, I had been overjoyed. I had secretly loved him for so long—since high school—but I never dared to approach him. All I could do was listen to the gossip about him and her.

I always knew that he had a place in his heart for Cindy. I pretended not to notice, tiptoeing around, doing my best to be a good wife, hoping to build a happy family and protect this fragile "happiness."

When our daughter arrived, there was finally a spark of hope in his eyes. As my belly grew, he began to care more about me, learning to offer words of comfort.

When Nina was born, it was as if he had come back to life, dancing with joy outside the delivery room, kissing and holding her, feeding her, changing her diapers. At that moment, I truly believed his heart had thawed, and we could live a life that belonged to us.

Norman named our daughter Nina, saying she was his precious little girl. Deep down, I knew that "Nina" was Cindy's nickname, but I pretended not to.

I thought that as our daughter grew, he would let go of the past, that their story would become a memory. But then Cindy broke up with her wealthy boyfriend, citing domestic abuse.

I never expected her to return, let alone come to our house and rekindle their old flame. It turned out that I thought things too simply.

"You still remember the promise you made to our daughter, right? To celebrate her birthday?"

Norman was taken aback by my question. His face revealed a trace of panic and guilt.

"Yesterday was Cindy's birthday, I..."

"So you abandoned your daughter to spend the day with her, didn't you? Did you completely forget your daughter's birthday?" I cut him off sharply.

Cindy stepped forward, trying to calm me. "Please, don't be angry. Norman didn't do it on purpose."

"Shut up!" I snapped, glaring at Cindy.

Immediately, Norman pulled Cindy behind him, pointing a finger at me. "That's enough! If anyone's to blame, it's me. Don't take it out on Cindy!"

"I'm going to apologize to our daughter." Norman made a move towards our daughter's room but quickly realized it was empty. He looked confused and asked, "Where's Nina?"

"Do you want to see Nina?" I looked up at him.

"Of course I do. Every time I come home, I see her. This time, I wanted her to meet Cindy, but you made it so complicated!" His face twisted with impatience.

"Norman, don't be like this..." Cindy stepped forward and grabbed Norman's arm, but then seemed to have thought of something and let go of him. This action was very deliberate and obvious.

"And why didn't you pick up our daughter from school?" I asked, stunned.

Norman froze, stammering, "I... I forgot. Is she still at school?"

"Forgot? Or didn't want to?" I pressed. "Even if you didn't want to, you could've at least told me to pick her up. If not, you could have had your assistant tell me." As I spoke, tears welled up and spilled over uncontrollably, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.

"I... I'll be more careful next time." Norman's voice was full of shame, as though he had been slapped. He couldn't meet my eyes.

"Next time?" I couldn't help but laugh bitterly through my tears. I wasn't even sure if I was laughing or crying anymore.

Realizing something was wrong, Norman grew more anxious. "What do you mean by all this? What's going on with Nina? Where is she?" He grabbed me by the collar, his usual arrogance returning, as if I were the one at fault, never reflecting on his own mistakes.

"Do you want to see her?" I ignored the anger on his face. "Fine. I'll take you to see her."

We drove to the hospital, and as we reached the entrance, Norman seemed shocked.

"Is Nina sick?" His face showed disbelief, and then he looked as if he couldn't accept the truth. "Did she get hurt?"

Watching him, my heart finally broke. He hadn't even looked at the messages on his phone. Throughout the car ride, all he did was fuss over Cindy's feelings.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know Nina was sick, but I believe she'll get better," Cindy said apologetically.

I let out a bitter laugh.

Perhaps my laugh was unsettling, as they both looked at me with concern.

Ignoring their ridiculous reaction, I walked into the hospital and approached the staff. As a family member, I asked to be taken to the morgue.

"Where are you going? Why are we here? Have you lost your mind?" Norman's voice grew more uneasy, trembling as he spoke.