The Day I Stopped Being a Mother

The moment the words left my mouth, the two people in front of me froze as if they’d been struck by lightning.

They stared at me in disbelief.

Victor was stunned for a split second—then he snapped, swearing under his breath.

“What the hell are you saying? In front of a child?!”

I glanced at Lily, who was hiding in his arms, and repeated calmly,

“I said, if she doesn’t want to stay with me, that’s fine.”

Then I added, without hesitation,

“I don’t want to give birth to such an unpleasant child either.”

If he still didn’t understand, I could spell it out more clearly.

I don’t want her.

I enunciated every word deliberately, slowly, making sure each syllable landed.

As soon as I finished speaking, Lily—who had been burying her face and crying hysterically, trying to force me to change my mind—suddenly lifted her head.

She looked at me, and then burst into loud, heartbroken sobs.

Her face was streaked with tears and snot.

“You’re a terrible mom! I hate you! I don’t want you!”

She flailed in Victor’s arms, squirming so hard he almost dropped her.

Victor gritted his teeth and held her tighter, lowering his head to hers.

“Hey… hey, kiddo, calm down,” he murmured.

“You know your mom loves you, right? She brought you into this world, she’s been there for you every step… even when things got messy.”

“We all know you’re her favorite.”

Under his gentle coaxing, Lily’s crying gradually faded.

She clung to his arm like an octopus, wrapped her small arms around his neck, and asked in a trembling voice,

“Really?”

“Of course,” Victor replied.

Then he glanced at me meaningfully.

“Why don’t you ask your mom yourself?”

Lily looked over at me, her eyes red and swollen, full of expectation.

But I didn’t move.

I didn’t even lift my eyelids.

I maintained the same cold, indifferent posture.

It was as if Lily had been stung.

Her mouth twisted, and it looked like she was about to cry again.

Victor finally lost his patience. His face darkened as he glared at me.

“What is wrong with you? Wanting a divorce is bad enough—but now you don’t even want your own child? Do you even deserve to be a mother?”

I let out a soft, mocking laugh.

“Didn’t she say first that she didn’t want me as her mother?” I replied coolly.

“I’m simply respecting her wishes.”

Lily’s small body stiffened.

Then she glared at me with all the hatred she could muster.

“You’re the one who didn’t want me and Dad in the first place!” she shouted.

“If you really respected my opinion, why are you still insisting on a divorce?”

“My biggest opinion is that you shouldn’t get divorced!”

“Why won’t you listen?”

“You never wanted us anyway.”

“You want me to become a child with no parents!”

In my previous life, she had said the exact same things.

She had accused me of being selfish.

She had threatened that if I dared to divorce her father, she would never acknowledge me as her mother again.

Because she was still young, I didn’t argue with her.

Instead, I explained patiently.

I told her it was because her father had another woman outside the marriage—that was why I chose to leave.

I thought that if I said it clearly, she would understand.

What I got in return was her innocent yet vicious question:

“You’re not good enough, right? That’s why Dad had to go to someone else.”

“Sophia’s mom… she’s everything you’re not. Pretty, successful, loved by everyone. Her dad would never leave her.”

“You’re not good enough. Dad doesn’t want you. I don’t want you either.”

I felt my heart shatter—like falling into an endless, icy chasm.

A kind of despair I had never known before swallowed me whole.

I had always believed that even if I wasn’t a successful wife, at least I was a successful mother.

From the moment Lily was born, all my time and energy had revolved around her.

I worried she’d be cold.

I worried she’d be hungry.

I worried she’d feel wronged.

I did everything myself.

I poured everything I had into her—and all I ever got in return were words that shattered me:

“I don’t care about you. You’re not what I want.”My heart trembled violently—but even then, I never thought of giving up.

I believed that things would change once she grew up.

That when she matured, she would understand my struggles.

She would understand my love.

So I gave her even more.

Until the day of her wedding.

She invited Victor and his wife—Victor’s former mistress—onto the stage.

She addressed them as “Dad” and “Mom” in every sentence, delivering a heartfelt speech of gratitude.

In front of all the guests, she knelt before that woman and said:

“You are the person I should be most grateful to in this lifetime.”

“Thank you for freeing my father from a failed marriage. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.”

“Thank you. Without you, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

“Please allow me to call you Mom.”

After she finished, the woman pulled her up and embraced her.

Victor stepped forward as well.

The three of them hugged, looking like the perfect family.

I stood below the stage like a joke.

It felt as if my heart were being sliced open with a blade.

Even now, the scenes of my past life remain painfully vivid.

I couldn’t help but look at Lily with pure disgust.

She was frightened—thinking I was angry because of what she had just said.