“Dad, don’t be mad at Mom,” she sobbed, sticking two fingers into her mouth. “It was my fault. I’m going to give Tristan back the chicken!”
“Chloe, stop!” I screamed, running over to hold her small hands while she cried and tried to make herself vomit. “No, my love. You don’t have to return anything. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Tristan burst out laughing from his seat. “See, Dad? She’s doing theater just like Charlotte.”
I waited for Zachary to react, praying he would see his four-year-old daughter trembling on the floor. I waited for him to hug her and ask if she was okay.
Instead, he looked at us with annoyance. “That happens because you spoil her too much. She’s already learned how to manipulate us with those tears.”
I felt the last thread holding me to that house snap. I picked up Chloe and walked straight toward our bedroom.
“When you’ve calmed her down, you come out here, clear the table, and help Tristan with his homework!” Zachary shouted from behind me.
I closed the bedroom door and locked it.
Minutes later, I heard the loud voices of his family coming through Zachary’s phone speaker in the hallway. Tristan was telling his twisted version of the story. His grandmother said I was an ungrateful, spiteful woman. His grandfather chimed in, saying that I behaved worse with every passing day.
And then I heard his ex-wife’s sweet voice. “Don’t be so hard on Charlotte. She probably has her reasons. Poor Tristan, though.”
Zachary’s mother replied immediately, “When you were living here, these ugly things never happened.”
Laughter echoed through the house.
Tristan asked loudly, “Mom, when are you coming back to live with Dad?”
No one reprimanded him for asking.
I looked down at Chloe, who was wiping her tear-stained cheeks.
“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m sorry for eating the chicken.”
My heart shattered completely. “Don’t ever apologize again for being hungry.”
“Can we leave?” she asked softly.
“Yes, baby,” I replied.
“Where are we going?”
I stroked her soft hair. “To a place where you can eat all the chicken legs you want without anyone yelling at you.”
Chloe remained silent for a few seconds before looking up. “Is Dad going with us?”
“Do you want him to come?” I asked gently.
She shook her head firmly and hid her face against my chest. “Dad only wants Tristan.”
That night, my decision was fully made. I wasn’t going to beg to get back into a family that had spent five years showing me I never belonged. And Zachary had no idea that when he removed me from the group this time, I had no intention of ever returning.
PART
My alarm went off at six o’clock the next morning. For five full years, that hour meant jumping out of bed, making breakfast, ironing school uniforms, waking Zachary and Tristan up, checking the boy’s backpack, and driving him to school.
That morning, I simply turned off my phone, rolled over, and pulled Chloe closer into a warm hug.
I woke up naturally at eight forty.
A few minutes later, Zachary burst into the bedroom with his dress shirt buttoned completely wrong. “Why didn’t you wake us up?”
Tristan appeared right behind him, scowling. “I’m going to be incredibly late for school because of you!”
Zachary looked around the messy room in confusion. “Didn’t you make breakfast either?”
I continued calmly combing Chloe’s hair.
“Charlotte, that’s enough,” Zachary said impatiently, pulling out his cell phone. “Are you still angry about last night? Look.”
He showed me the screen, where he had added me back to the family group chat. “Happy now? Now get up and handle things.”
I took my phone, opened the application, and tapped “Leave group.” Then I immediately blocked Zachary’s number.
