When our daughter died in the earthquake, my wife was off visiting her high school sweetheart. I asked her to attend Chloe’s funeral, but she looked at me with disgust, her voice dripping with disdain. “Can you stop being ridiculous? David and his daughter are injured and need someone to care for them.” She didn’t seem to realize that David and Emily only had minor injuries, while my daughter was gone forever. Later, after we divorced, she finally understood—without me, she was nothing. “Dad, I’m so cold.” Chloe trembled in my arms, her whole body shaking. The fierce winter wind howled through the broken walls. I reached out as best I could, trying to share whatever warmth I had left with her. “Don’t worry, Chloe. Daddy’s here.” “Mom’s outside. She’ll be here soon to save us.” When the earthquake hit, Chloe and I were home. The sudden collapse trapped us under the rubble, with my legs pinned beneath a slab of concrete, leaving me immobile. Luckily, my wife, Sarah, was in Bristol, safe from the disaster. I was certain she’d come back to rescue us soon. “Dad, my leg hurts.” I looked down and saw a dark stain of blood spreading beneath her. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but Chloe’s injuries were far worse than mine. My heart clenched painfully, and tears began to fall. “Chloe, hold Daddy’s hand. Just hang on a little longer, okay?” Even though she was in pain, my sweet girl nodded in agreement. She’d always been so well-behaved, even now. We waited in the freezing rubble for what felt like hours, until I was nearly at the point of collapse. Then, at last, I heard footsteps above us. It was Sarah. She had finally come with help. Hope surged in my chest. I shouted with all my remaining strength. “Sarah, we’re here!” Chloe heard her too, her tiny voice calling out in excitement. “Mom! Mom, Chloe’s here!” “Mom, please come save us!” I reached out, weakly tapping a pipe beside me, trying to make as much noise as possible. My heart pounded with relief—Chloe was going to be saved. But to my horror, the footsteps paused only briefly above us, then moved away, fading into the distance. I froze. I couldn’t believe that Sarah had mistaken our house, or that she hadn’t heard our desperate cries. No, there was only one explanation. She was going to the house behind ours—to save David, her high school sweetheart. It was so cold that my tears froze almost instantly on my cheeks. I held Chloe tightly, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “Chloe, hang in there just a little longer. Mom… Mom will come back for us.” In the darkness, Chloe’s quiet sobs broke the silence. “Dad, you’re lying, aren’t you?” “Mom’s not coming to save us. She’s saving David instead.” No child should ever have to bear such a truth. I pulled her closer, holding her shivering body against mine. “Dad, did I do something wrong?” “Why doesn’t Mom ever smile at me? Does she not like me?” “But why… why doesn’t she love me?” As she spoke, I felt her little body grow colder and colder. In that moment, the pain in my legs no longer mattered. All I cared about was keeping my daughter alive. Unable to move my arms, I began banging my head against the pipe, over and over. Blood streamed down my face, but the only sound in the icy night was the dull thudding of my futile efforts. Sarah never came back. Chloe was gone. The vibrant little girl who once danced around and called me “Daddy” had died, right there, when her mother abandoned us. When I felt her body go completely cold, my world went dark. All my hope, all my effort, had been in vain. Sarah had chosen David Campbell over our daughter, and Chloe had paid the price. I slumped over and blacked out.
When I woke again, the sterile scent of disinfectant filled my nose. The memories came rushing back, and the crushing weight of grief settled in my chest. “Chloe!” I screamed her name. Nurses rushed in, asking me how I felt, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t feel any pain in my broken leg, which was now suspended in a cast. “Where’s my Chloe? Where is she?” The nurses went silent. The head nurse looked at me with sympathy, her face heavy with sorrow. “Mr. Blake, I’m so sorry for your loss.” In that moment, it felt like someone had ripped my heart from my chest. The pain was so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe. Everything around me fell silent. All I could hear was Chloe’s voice. She was calling, “Daddy, help me.” But I hadn’t been able to save her. And the one person who could have—her mother—had chosen to abandon us. It took a long time for me to calm down. Finally, I asked to see Chloe one last time. The nurses resisted at first, but eventually they relented and helped me into a wheelchair. On the way, I heard a voice coming from the room next door. Sarah’s voice. The anger inside me flared into a raging storm. I remembered how she could have saved Chloe, but instead, she saved David. I pushed open the door, ignoring the nurses trying to stop me. The sight before me was like a knife to the heart. Sarah was holding a little girl—David’s daughter, Emily. She was comforting her, smiling at David with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. They looked like a perfect family. When Sarah saw me, the warmth in her eyes instantly disappeared. Her voice was sharp and annoyed. “Why are you barging in like this? Can’t you see that David and Emily are still recovering?” I glanced at them. They had nothing but a few scrapes. Yet Sarah was treating them as if they were the most precious people in the world. Meanwhile, her own husband was sitting in a wheelchair with a broken leg, and her daughter—our daughter—was dead. And she didn’t spare a word of concern. I rolled my wheelchair closer. “Sarah, your daughter is dead.” “Do you know why she died?” “It’s because, when you passed by our house, you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t care. You chose to save David instead.” Sarah’s eyes flickered. She opened her mouth as if to say something but then shook her head. “John, can you stop with this jealousy nonsense?” “You’re just trying to make me feel guilty, to blame David for what happened.” I stared at her, feeling like I was looking at a stranger. I couldn’t believe that this woman—the woman I had loved for seven years—could say something so heartless. “Do you really think I would make up Chloe’s death just to spite you?” Sarah narrowed her eyes, her expression mocking. “Wouldn’t you?” “All you ever do is use Chloe to guilt-trip me or to attack David and Emily. What else do you do?” Two years ago, David and his daughter had arrived in the city with nothing. They showed up at our house in the middle of the night. I pitied them and offered them a villa we weren’t using. I even found David an easy job. But in Sarah’s eyes, I had somehow become the villain, targeting them. I laughed bitterly. “Sarah, do you even believe the things you’re saying?” Her face darkened. “At least I don’t resort to underhanded tricks like you.” “Underhanded? Me?” I asked, incredulous. “You’re the one with something to hide, not me.” Disappointment settled deep in my chest. In that moment, I realized I had nothing left to expect from her. “Chloe’s biggest regret in life,” I said quietly, “was having a mother like you.” Without waiting for her response, I turned and left the room.
After Chloe was cremated, I began to prepare her funeral. The little girl who had embodied every bit of joy and warmth in my life was now reduced to a cold urn of ashes, resting in my hands. After much thought, I decided that Sarah should still be invited to the funeral. Despite everything, she was Chloe’s mother. She deserved to be there. I called her again and again, but my calls either went straight to voicemail or rang endlessly without being answered. With each unanswered call, the silence around me felt heavier. In the distance, I could hear laughter coming from the room next door. I never expected that, even after our daughter’s death, my wife wouldn’t want to attend her funeral. Suddenly, a soft ping alerted me to a message on my phone. I checked it and saw a notification for a bank deduction of fifteen thousand pounds. Fifteen thousand wasn’t a huge sum for me, but the recipient caught my attention—St. George’s Hospital. I hadn’t made any payments for my own care yet, so there was only one possibility. Sarah had used my card to pay for David and Emily’s hospital fees! While Chloe lay in a cold, lifeless urn, David and his daughter were enjoying the luxury of a private hospital suite, all paid for with my money. Rage bubbled up inside me. Without a second thought, I stormed into the room next door. David didn’t even bother to look up, assuming it was Sarah. “You’re back so soon, Sarah?” he said casually. “Emily was just saying how much she missed you.” The irony hit me like a slap in the face. Sarah, who couldn’t even be bothered to check on our daughter, rushed to David’s side the moment Emily expressed the slightest longing for her. There was no point in pretending anymore. I said coldly, “David, you’ve racked up fifteen thousand pounds in hospital bills. How would you like to pay? Cash or transfer?” David’s head jerked up in shock, his large eyes wide with fear. “John… What are you doing here?” I gave him a bitter smile, pulling out my phone to show him the bank notification. “Sarah doesn’t have any money of her own. Everything she’s spent on you—this hospital stay, the fancy clothes, the villa rent—has all come out of my pocket.” “This time, it’s fifteen thousand. Add to that everything else I’ve provided for you, and the rent on the villa. You owe me one hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds.” David’s face turned pale. “That’s impossible… You must have made a mistake. How could it add up to that much?” I was about to answer when Sarah stormed into the room, cutting me off. “John, what are you doing? Are you seriously harassing David and Emily while I’m not here?” “They’re still recovering, and you have the audacity to ask them for money?” “Is there anything in your world besides money?” Sarah shoved me aside, placing herself protectively between me and David.
Before I could respond, David jumped in, trying to sound pitiful. “Sarah, I’ve only just come to this city. I don’t know anyone here. You were the only person I could turn to.” “I never thought your husband would be upset over something like that.” “And now, when we’re still not fully healed, he’s trying to throw us out of the hospital.” I stared at him in disbelief, stunned by how easily he twisted the truth. I shifted my gaze to Sarah, who stood defiantly at his side. “David, you know very well why you came here,” I said icily. “And you know I haven’t thrown you out or done anything to force you.” “You’ve eaten my food, lived in my house, and now you’re turning the tables on me?” “Does that not weigh on your conscience?” David’s face grew even paler. He pressed a hand to his chest and started coughing violently, as if overcome by the stress. Seeing him struggle, Sarah snapped. Without warning, she slapped me across the face. The force of the blow left me stunned. I raised a hand to my stinging cheek, staring at her in disbelief. Sarah sneered at me, her lips curling in contempt. “That slap was for David.” I laughed, but the taste of salt reminded me that I wasn’t amused—I was heartbroken. “Sarah, remember this.” “From this moment on, I will act as though Chloe never had a mother like you.” I didn’t wait for her response. I turned my wheelchair around and left the room. Whatever happened from here, I was done. I would never allow them to hurt me again. Chloe’s funeral was set for the next day. The sky was heavy with thick clouds, blocking out the sun. Before long, a mixture of rain and snow began to fall. Sarah knew what day it was—she knew it was our daughter’s funeral—but she didn’t show up. While I sat alone in the cold, holding Chloe’s tiny urn, I saw something that made my blood boil. David had posted a photo on his social media—a picture of him, Sarah, and Emily, smiling happily together. They looked like the perfect family. I was drenched, pushing my wheelchair through the rain, clutching Chloe’s ashes, when suddenly, a figure appeared beside me. An umbrella shielded me from the rain, and I looked up to see Samantha Quinn. We’d been childhood friends, but ever since I married Sarah, we had drifted apart. I never expected her to show up at my daughter’s funeral. “I know you’re in pain,” she said gently, “but now isn’t the time to fall apart.” Her bright, clear eyes seemed to see straight into my heart, as if she knew everything I was feeling. She was right. It wasn’t time to break down. Not yet. There was something I needed to do. After the funeral, I sent Sarah a message. It was simple—just five words: Let’s get a divorce.
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