Chapter 5: My Daughter’s Answer

I sobbed, body shaking. Emily held me, her little arms surprisingly strong.

Tears streamed down my face.

I couldn’t stop them. For the first time in months, I let myself grieve.

Emily reached up to wipe them away, then tried to hug me with her little arms.

She patted my back, whispering, "It’s okay, Mommy. I’m here."

“Mom, if you’re ever sad, tell me. I can tell you stories.”

Her offer was so sweet, so earnest. I smiled through my tears and nodded.

“That time I got up at night and saw you crying in the bathroom.”

Her voice was soft, full of concern. I hadn’t realized she’d seen me. Guilt washed over me.

“Dad never comes to see us. He’s a big meanie!”

She said it with a pout, brow furrowed. I laughed, despite myself.

I thought my daughter didn’t understand anything, but she saw all my pain.

She was more perceptive than I’d given her credit for. I promised myself—never again.

She was just too young to know how to comfort me.

But she tried, in her own way. That was enough.

Late at night, after my daughter fell asleep, I picked up my phone and called David. It rang over and over with no answer.

I sat on the edge of the bed, phone pressed to my ear, heart pounding. I almost hung up, but something made me wait.

Just as I was about to hang up, someone picked up. It was Rachel’s voice: “Mrs. Carter, there’s a company dinner tonight. We’re still out.”

Her voice was smug, triumphant. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to scream.

“Let David answer.”

I kept my tone cold. Refused to let her see how much she’d gotten to me.

“He’s drunk.”

I heard laughter in the background, the clink of glasses. I pictured them together. Celebrating my misery.

“If he’s not passed out, put him on the phone.”

I waited, jaw clenched. Rachel hesitated, then I heard muffled voices.

Rachel was still stammering when David finally took the call. “Babe, don’t get the wrong idea. There are a lot of people at the dinner tonight.”

His words slurred, but I could hear the panic in his voice. I didn’t let him finish.

“You don’t need to explain. I’ve already sent the divorce agreement to your email. If there’s no problem, come back and we’ll get divorced.”

I spoke clearly, voice steady. Felt a strange sense of relief, like a weight had been lifted.

David was stunned, then snapped, “Sarah Carter, is this what you want? Talking about divorce again—do you really think I won’t go through with it? If we get divorced, let’s see how you survive. I’m not giving you Emily, and you’ll never see her again!”

His words were cruel, but I refused to let them break me. I hung up, hands shaking. But my resolve was stronger than ever. I would fight for Emily, for myself, no matter what it took.