Ex and Son Beg, But I Never Turn Back

Willow's POV

I’d just folded the last of my husband Logan’s shirts and my son Leo’s little T-shirts when my phone buzzed.

Probably another message from Logan telling me to pick up his package from the service center, because of course I’m the family’s full-time errand runner.

I wiped my wet hands on my apron.

Dinner reservations. At Swallow’s.

For my birthday?

I stood there for a moment, the laundry basket still balanced on my hip. Logan remembering my birthday was rare enough. Making dinner plans for it was… well, unheard of.

It had been years since Logan had even remembered my birthday, let alone celebrated it with me. The last time he acknowledged my birthday was the year our son, Leo, was born.

Every year after that, my birthday had been brushed aside like dust on the floor.

Logan claimed he was always too busy with work, but his claims always came after the fact, a day late… a day after my actual birthday.

But he’d made reservations this year. Maybe this was his way of saying I still mattered.

A ripple of anticipation washed over me. Maybe this was the match we needed to rekindle the spark in our marriage.

Swallow’s was the fanciest new restaurant in town. He’d even booked a private room. Maybe our marriage could be rekindled after all.

Elated, I clutched the phone to my chest and dashed into my bedroom to get ready.

I hummed as I got dressed, excited for the night ahead.

Excited at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, this would be the first step in repairing our damaged relationship.

For years now, I’d felt like I was invisible, like I was just a shadow of a person. My entire life revolved around Logan and our son. I did my best to attend to Logan’s every need. I put a hot dinner on the table every night. I did all his laundry and made sure the house was spotless. I looked after Leo, often putting him to bed alone while Logan worked late.

I did it all, and I did it with a smile on my face, even though they took me for granted.

One simple ‘thank you’ would go so far...

Which was why I was so excited about the dinner. Between the housework and the errands and all the other mundane tasks that filled my days, I couldn’t even remember the last time that anything had been about ME.

A couple hours later, though, as I walked into the private room at Swallow’s, my heart sank.

Logan and Leo were there, but so was my half-sister, Beatrice.

Or ‘Bea-tricks’, as I often called her.

Sitting beside Beatrice was a little girl, about four years old, her hair pulled into a ponytail. I had never seen her before, and the sight caused me to freeze in the doorway.

What were they all doing here?

Logan looked up at me and wrinkled his nose.

“I told you the reservation was at Swallow’s, didn’t I?” he commented, his brows furrowed as his eyes roamed my dress.

He didn’t like it, I could tell. And I didn’t blame him. It was old and faded, but it was all I had on such short notice. I hadn’t bought myself anything new in years.

“Yes, you did,” I replied, forcing a smile despite the surprise guests. I decided to ignore his comment. I was determined to have a nice night.

Leo glanced at me as I took my seat, but only briefly. He was playing some sort of game on Beatrice’s phone.

“Happy birthday,” Beatrice said, locking her eyes onto mine. I couldn’t help but notice her meticulously applied make-up. Just as I couldn’t help but notice she was wearing the latest designer dress from a hot new, trendy label.

The dress fit her like a glove, and my eyes darted over her firm, lean body. She clearly clocked a lot of hours at the gym.

The only time I left the house was to run errands or to take Leo to school or soccer practice. I didn’t have time for the gym. And I certainly didn’t have time to buy myself designer clothes. I practically lived in leggings, oversize t-shirts, and the odd blouse with slacks: a practical, comfortable, cliché housewife wardrobe.

The scent of Beatrice’s perfume wafted across the table and I instantly thought of my father. Of course Beatrice was wearing THAT perfume. It was the signature brand of the company, the same company that my father had entrusted to Beatrice instead of me when he stepped down as CEO.

Even though Beatrice was his illegitimate daughter.

Somehow, Bea-tricks had tricked my father into giving her the company.

Now, every time I caught the scent of that perfume, it sat in my stomach like a ton of bricks.

I should be running the company, not her.

I should be wearing the signature brand.

Not Beatrice.

My eyes landed on the unfamiliar girl sitting beside Beatrice.

“And who do we have here?” I asked politely, waiting to be introduced to the small stranger sitting at MY birthday dinner.

Logan redirected the conversation though, telling me to enjoy the food first.

I glanced at the table and noticed that the appetizers were already half-eaten. They didn’t even wait for me? My eyes landed on the cake, strawberry cake with blush pink frosting, my favorite.

But there was a piece missing.

Someone had already helped themselves to cake?

To MY birthday cake?

How many birthday cakes had I made for Logan over the years? Leo too. I’d spent countless hours laboring in the kitchen, wrestling with fondant, perfecting the perfect icing flower.

I did it because I wanted to give them something special on their birthdays; a homemade cake made with love.

But now?

They couldn’t even wait for me before helping themselves to my own birthday cake?

It all felt so jarring. My breath hitched in my throat.

What was going on here? This was supposed to be my day. I was supposed to be the guest of honor? And yet, there was a stranger sitting across from and everyone had already eaten.

“YES!” Leo said loudly, talking to his game. Even my own son seemed oblivious that this dinner was supposed to be about me.

“Leo, sweetie,” I said. “Maybe that’s enough screen time for now? Give your eyes a break.”

“God Mom,” Leo snapped at me, rolling his eyes. “Stop nagging me. It’s so annoying. My eyes are fine.”

He didn’t even look up from his screen when he said it, but he did drag his chair closer to Beatrice.

I’d noticed a shift in Leo lately. He was becoming dismissive of me, just like Logan. He used to thank me when I made his favorite dinner – mac and cheese with bacon bits. Or when I bought him his favorite brand of jeans. Or the latest sneakers.

I couldn’t remember the last time Leo thanked me. For anything.

Like father, like son.

“Should we tell her now?” Beatrice asked, a smile on her face. “I know you wanted to wait until after dessert. But I don’t think I can wait that long.”

An uneasiness settled over me.

“Tell me what?” I asked warily.

“We have, um, some big news,” Logan started.

Then I sat, stunned, as he explained to me that the little stranger sitting across from me was actually a girl that Beatrice wanted to adopt from an orphanage. Her name was Zoe.

“The only problem is,” Logan explained, “They won’t let Beatrice adopt her unless she’s married. The orphanage feels that an unmarried woman can’t provide the stability that Zoe needs. So Beatrice and I talked, and we came up with a plan.”

I narrowed my eyes.

I didn’t like where this was going.

“Basically, if you agree to a fake divorce, then I’ll just swoop in and marry Beatrice until the adoption’s finalized. Then Beatrice can divorce me and I’ll remarry you.”

A thick silence fell over the table.

‘Just ‘swoop’ in and marry her? Like marriage is no big deal?

The half-eaten appetizers, the missing piece of cake, the little girl – Zoe.

I realized that this wasn’t a birthday dinner for me at all. Logan wasn’t trying to show his appreciation for me. This wasn’t some big, grand gesture to celebrate me and all that I did for our family.

This was just a ruse.

The entire evening was just one big, carefully orchestrated deception, from start to finish.

Just like my marriage…