Chapter 2

To my surprise, Mom took my hand. Her expression was firm. "You should have divorced Joan a long time ago. I don't want you spending the rest of your life miserable just for Charlie's sake. He has us, his grandparents. He'll have everything he needs.

"You're our child too," she continued. "Your dad and I can't just stand by and watch you suffer."

Dad nodded and added, "If Joan can't get her priorities straight, and if there's no room in her heart for you or Charlie, there's no point in holding on to a marriage like that. Don't worry. Your mom and I will always be in your corner."

Their words finally lifted the weight that had been pressing down on my chest.

Six years of marriage, and I'd compromised again and again, backing down every single time. I'd convinced myself that if I could just hold out a little longer, Joanna would finally see who truly mattered.

I was wrong. From beginning to end, Charlie and I had never come first for her.

Charlie set down his fork, ran over, and wrapped his arms around my leg.

"Daddy, I want to live with Grandma and Grandpa from now on. Mommy can stay with Uncle Ryan, and I'll stay with you," he said softly. "I'll protect you, Daddy."

I crouched down and pulled Charlie into my arms. The tears I'd been holding back finally broke free.

In the end, I'd failed him by letting him see me at my worst. I'd let him grow up knowing what it was like to have a mother who was never truly there for him.

However, we had come this far. I believed that from here on out, I could give Charlie a stable, happy home all on my own.

…

Halfway through lunch, a text came in from Joanna. Just a single line, nothing more.

"I'll be back later. You guys go ahead and eat."

She didn't bother with an apology or an explanation.

Today was supposed to be a time for family. She'd already spent the entire Christmas season shuttling between her parents' place and Ryan's, yet she'd promised to spend Twelfth Night with me and my parents.

Now she'd not only broken that promise, but she hadn't even bothered to ask whether my parents minded her absence.

I ignored the message and put my phone aside. Picking up my fork, I served food to Charlie and my parents. A genuine smile returned to my face.

Now that I'd decided on the divorce, there was no point in agonizing over her priorities anymore.

That afternoon, Charlie built Legos with his grandparents in the living room while I sat out on the balcony, scrolling through old photos on my phone.

There were pictures from when Joanna and I were madly in love, from our wedding day when the future still looked bright, and from those warm early days after Charlie was born.

Photo after photo captured a happiness I'd once believed was real.

However, after Ryan entered the picture, that happiness was worn away bit by bit until nothing remained but resentment and disappointment.

The first time Joanna and I fought over Ryan was barely a month after Charlie was born.

She hadn't been producing enough milk, and because Charlie refused formula, he was crying his heart out from hunger. Then, Ryan called, saying Cynthia, who was already almost a year old, wanted breast milk.

Without a second thought, Joanna went straight over to his place. She left without so much as a word to me.

That day, watching Charlie cry from hunger until his voice turned hoarse tore me apart.

She didn't come back until the next day.

"Ryan's taking care of Cynthia all by himself," she said defensively. "He's a grown man. What does he know about looking after a baby? I just had a baby anyway. If I'm nursing one, I might as well nurse two."

She was willing to ignore how weak she still was after childbirth just to care for someone else's child. But who cared what Charlie was going through?

"Ryan is raising the baby alone, and Vivian is gone. I never said a word about you helping him," I told her. "But Cynthia is almost a year old and has never had breast milk once. Why does she suddenly need it now? And why do you have to be the one to nurse her?"

I was only stating facts, but Joanna called me petty and accused me of having no compassion. When my parents spoke up for me, she stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

Later, her parents brought her over to apologize, and for that first time, I chose to forgive her.

After that, arguments like those became a regular part of our marriage.

By now, I was tired of fighting. Whatever patience I'd once had for her was finally gone.

Dad had taken Charlie to the park before dinner, and they still weren't back. I'd just finished helping Mom put dinner on the table when Joanna called.

"My parents are going to my uncle's for dinner, so I'm driving them over," she said. "Tell your mom not to set a place for me. Also, take a cab home with Charlie tonight. I'm not coming to pick you up."

As she spoke, I could clearly hear Ryan's voice in the background.