Chapter two: The wish that broke Her

The restaurant was warm with laughter.

Claire stood just outside the private room, her hand hovering inches from the door, unsure why she had stopped walking. The corridor was softly lit, the carpet muffling her footsteps. She hadn’t meant to come here—not really. But when she saw the location on Fabian’s assistant’s message confirmation earlier that day, her body had moved on its own.

She told herself she only wanted confirmation.

Nothing more.

Through the half-open door, she saw them.

Fabian sat at the head of the table, relaxed, at ease. The tension that always clung to him at home was gone, replaced by something lighter, familiar. To his right sat Maxine Wells, dressed elegantly, her smile effortless and bright. She looked radiant—like someone being celebrated.

Pink and white decorations filled the room. A large cake rested at the center of the table, candles already lit.

Happy Birthday, the card beside it read.

Claire’s fingers curled slowly at her side.

Susie sat next to Maxine, leaning in close, her small hand resting comfortably against the woman’s arm. She looked happy—truly happy—in a way Claire had not seen in a long time.

Fabian laughed at something Maxine said.

Claire felt the sound echo painfully in her chest.

“She’s been looking forward to today all week,” Fabian said warmly. “Haven’t you, Susie?”

Susie nodded eagerly. “Yes! Mama Maxine promised me cake and presents.”

Claire’s breath caught.

Mama Maxine.

Maxine laughed softly. “Only because you behaved so well.”

Susie grinned. “I always do for you.”

Claire took a step back, then stopped herself.

I can handle this, she thought. Just watch.

The server entered, placing plates down carefully. The atmosphere buzzed with celebration—something Claire had not felt in her own home that morning.

“Make a wish,” Fabian said as Maxine leaned toward the cake.

Maxine closed her eyes, smiling.

Before she could blow out the candles, Susie suddenly spoke.

“You have to say it out loud,” she insisted.

Maxine chuckled. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because wishes come true faster that way,” Susie said confidently.

Fabian smiled indulgently. “Let her.”

Maxine opened her eyes and looked at Susie. “Alright then. What do you think I should wish for?”

Susie didn’t hesitate.

“I wish you were my real mommy.”

The room fell silent.

Claire felt the words slam into her chest with brutal force.

Maxine’s expression flickered—surprise, then something else. Something careful.

Fabian stiffened. “Susie—”

“I’m serious!” Susie insisted. “I like her better. She understands me. She comes to my school. She listens. And she doesn’t get sad all the time.”

Each word carved deeper than the last.

Claire pressed her hand to her mouth, afraid she might make a sound.

Maxine glanced at Fabian, then back at Susie. “Sweetheart, that’s not something you say lightly.”

“But it’s my birthday wish for you,” Susie said earnestly. “Daddy said wishes are important.”

Fabian didn’t correct her.

He didn’t say no.

Instead, he sighed softly. “Susie…”

Claire waited—desperately—for him to stop it.

He didn’t.

Maxine reached out and gently brushed Susie’s hair. “That’s a very big wish.”

“I know,” Susie said. “But you can make it come true.”

Claire stepped back.

Her legs felt weak, but she forced herself to move—slowly, silently—away from the door. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if she were walking through water.

She didn’t wait to hear the rest.

She didn’t need to.

The truth had settled with devastating clarity.

She was not losing her place in this family.

She had already lost it.

Back in the elevator, Claire stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall. She looked composed. Pale, but composed. No tears streaked her face. No outward sign of collapse.

Inside, something had gone terribly quiet.

Seven years.

Seven years of loving a man who no longer chose her.

Seven years of mothering a child who wished for someone else.

When the elevator doors opened, Claire stepped out and walked toward the exit without hesitation.

That night, she returned to the house she no longer felt belonged to her.

She went straight to the bedroom.

The wedding ring lay exactly where she had left it.

Claire picked it up, turning it once in her fingers before setting it inside a white envelope. She retrieved the divorce papers she had printed earlier that afternoon—papers she hadn’t believed she would actually use.

Now, her hands were steady.

She placed the ring on top.

No note.

No explanation.

She sealed the envelope and set it neatly on Fabian’s desk.

By morning, she would be gone.

And this time, she wouldn’t be coming back.