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866words2026-01-27 08:24

"Something came up at work. I can't make it for Sophia's birthday tonight."
I calmly closed the chat window with my husband.
Then I opened my social media feed and saw the photo he'd just been tagged in.

Liam, my husband, holding another woman's son, both of them beaming with joy.
My five-year-old daughter leaned against me, whispering.
"Mommy, my birthday wish this year is...to never see Daddy again."
So, even a child could see it.
The man who was always "too busy" for her school events was the same man who would make time for someone else's kid.
It was two in the morning when Liam finally came home.

The sudden glare of the headlights slicing through the window made me instinctively shade my daughter's eyes.
He leaned against the bedroom doorframe.
"Honey, I'm home. Why don't you wake Sophia up? We can still celebrate her birthday."
I used to be obsessed with these family rituals.

Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, even the smallest school events—I'd insist Liam be there.
I didn't want Sophia to grow up like I did, knowing her father only through a phone screen.
But now—
I smoothed the blanket over my daughter, my voice flat.
"Don't bother."
A flash of annoyance crossed Liam's face.
"Emma, I was just putting Lucas to bed. That's it. Don't read into it. This is exactly why I can't be honest with you. You're always so suspicious."
I wasn't reading into it.
And from now on, I wouldn't be suspicious either.
"If you're done, please go to your own room. Don't wake Sophia. She has school in the morning."
He let out a cold laugh.
"Fine. But don't come crying to me later, calling me an absent father."
I turned away and switched off the lamp, gently patting the back of my daughter, who had stirred from the noise.
Absent? It didn't matter anymore.
After all, Sophia's birthday wish was to never see him again.
The next morning, Liam didn't leave immediately after breakfast as he usually did.
He sat at the table, reading the morning news.
Just as we were about to leave, he stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked over to us, ruffling Sophia's hair.
"Daddy's taking you to school today."
He was speaking to our daughter, but his eyes were fixed on me.
Two years ago, when Sophia first started preschool, Liam drove her every single day.
But after Isabella arrived, he started leaving earlier and earlier, claiming his morning meetings had been moved up.
I believed him—until three months ago, when I was at Sophia's new school and saw him.
The man who was supposed to be in a board meeting was helping a little boy out of the backseat of his car
It wasn't that he didn't have time to take his daughter to school.
It was just that he had something more important to do.
We had a terrible fight that night.
The next day, Sophia stopped asking for him to take her school.
Even though I had already decided on a divorce, he was still her father.
I hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
A small, triumphant smile touched his lips as he scooped Sophia into his arms.
When he opened the car door, I froze.
The backseat was a mess of someone else's life.
A Spider-Man water bottle, a toy bow and arrow set and a woman's shawl tossed carelessly on the leather.
Tucked into the seatback pocket was a framed "family photo."
He followed my gaze, and his expression soured.
"Isabella put that there. She said it makes Lucas happy."
He shot me a warning look.
"Don't take it seriously. It's not a big deal."
The woman I used to be would have shattered the frame, would have screamed and cried and demanded to know where Sophia and I fit.
But now, I just nodded. "It's a nice picture."
He stared at me, confused. "You're not angry?"
Angry? Maybe I should have been. But all I felt was a vast, hollow emptiness.
It was almost funny. How could a man as sharp as Liam not see through such a clumsy, transparently manipulative tactic?
The answer was simple. He saw it, but didn't care.
"We should go," I said.
"Sophia's going to be late."
His lips tightened, but he said nothing, just opened the driver's side door.
As I was about to lift Sophia into her car seat, his phone rang.
The ringtone was a cheesy kids' song.
"My dad is the best dad, the best dad in the world..."
A little boy's frantic sobs filled the air.
"Daddy! Daddy! Where did you go? Don't you want me and Mommy anymore?"
Liam hung up and, without a single glance in our direction, slid into the driver's seat.
"Lucas's asking for me. I'll have the driver take you today."
The black Maybach sped away, leaving us in the faint smell of exhaust.
I knelt and brushed Sophia's hair from her face.
"Daddy had an emergency, sweetheart. Next time he's free, we'll all go together, okay?"
Sophia looked at me, her expression startlingly mature for a five-year-old.
"Daddy's never free, Mommy. All his time is for Lucas and his mommy."