To retrieve her engagement ring from her first love, my wife sent our five-year-old daughter into an old, abandoned house rumored to be haunted. Inside, our daughter was terrified by the bloodstains on the walls. Panicked, she lost her footing and fell down the stairs. A rusted metal rod pierced straight through her small body. When I found her, she was already gone. Her tiny hand clutched the ring tightly, refusing to let go even in death. I collapsed beside her lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably as I held her close. Desperate and shattered, I dialed my wife’s number over and over. When she finally answered, her voice was impatient and cold. “Stop calling me!” she snapped. “David’s daughter is about to undergo her heart transplant surgery. Don’t mess this up!” Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. I stared at my daughter’s pale face, my heart breaking into pieces. In that moment, something inside me died. I hung up on my wife and dialed a different number. “Hello. This is Emily’s father,” I said, my voice trembling with rage and grief. “I’m calling about the heart donation.” “I’m sorry, but we’ve decided not to proceed with it.” If you took my daughter from me, you don’t deserve her heart.
For an entire day, my wife’s phone was turned off. She didn’t come to see our daughter. Instead, she sent a delivery driver to pick up the engagement ring that Emily had been clutching in her tiny hand as she died. My wife said the ring was something she’d given her first love, David Lee, back in the day—a symbol of their youthful romance. It was important to her, she claimed. Too important to be lost. The hospital nurse looked at me with a mixture of pity and anger. “How could such a young child be sent alone into an abandoned house to fetch something? That place hasn’t been lived in for years, and there was a recent death there. What kind of parent does that?” “I heard she was already born with a weak heart. How could anyone think it was okay to send her to a place like that?” “That poor little girl… I hope her next life is kinder, without parents like this.” They were right. I hated myself more than anyone else ever could. I’d always known my wife didn’t care about Emily’s health. So why had I let her take Emily that day? I sat alone in the living room all night, my mind a storm of grief and regret. By the time the sun rose, my wife finally came home. “Sign this,” I said, pushing the divorce papers across the table. She frowned, clearly annoyed. “What’s gotten into you now? Are you losing it?” “Is this about me not answering your calls? You’re being ridiculous,” she said, rolling her eyes. “David’s daughter is about to have surgery. As his friend, of course I had to be there for him. Don’t start acting like a child, Noah. I’m warning you—don’t push your luck.” The faint smell of hospital disinfectant clung to her clothes, the same sterile scent that filled the air when Emily was taken into the emergency room. But back then, my wife wasn’t by Emily’s side. She was off comforting someone else’s child. I let out a bitter laugh, my face twisted with disgust. “Comforting him all night? The surgery hasn’t even started, and you’re already playing the role of a grieving parent? What’s next—holding his hand when it fails?” Before I could say more, my wife slapped me hard across the face. “Noah, let me tell you something,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “The only reason I’ve tolerated you all this time is because we had a daughter together. But if you keep running your mouth, I’ll throw you out of this house myself!” Daughter? She dared to bring up our daughter? The memory of Emily’s pale, pain-stricken face flashed in my mind, and my chest tightened with unbearable grief. “Monica,” I said through clenched teeth, “how dare you even mention Emily? She was only five years old. How could you send her to that abandoned house alone? That place had been empty for years. Someone had just died there! Do you even know—” “Oh, here we go again,” Monica interrupted, rubbing her temples as if I were giving her a headache. “David is an adventure blogger, and the ring got lost there during one of his shoots. What was I supposed to do? Emily was perfectly capable of fetching it. It’s not like it killed her!” Her words made my blood run cold. “Besides,” she continued, “there weren’t any ghosts in that house. I sent her there to toughen her up. It was for her own good.” “Look at David’s daughter. She’s so brave, facing surgery like it’s nothing. And now look at Emily. She couldn’t even handle a simple errand without whining to you about it.” Monica’s tone grew sharper, each word cutting deeper than the last. “And don’t blame me for liking Sophie more than Emily. Let’s be honest—Sophie’s cheerful and outgoing. She’s a joy to be around, unlike Emily, who was always so quiet and dull.” “She was useless, Noah. She couldn’t even find a ring without making it into a big deal. If Sophie’s surgery fails because of that, I’ll make sure Emily apologizes for it—even if I have to drag her to the hospital to kneel outside Sophie’s room!” Her words were knives, slicing me to pieces. I had been a fool. I’d clung to the hope that Monica might feel even a shred of guilt after Emily’s death. But now I saw the truth: Emily’s life had meant nothing to her. All she cared about was David. His feelings. His daughter’s surgery. She didn’t deserve to know what had happened to Emily. If I told her, she wouldn’t mourn. She’d only accuse me and Emily of plotting to ruin her life. “Enough of this,” Monica said, tossing a battered Barbie doll onto the couch. “This is for Emily. Tell her to come out of her room and thank Sophie for the gift.” I stared at the doll, my heart sinking. Emily had always wanted an Elsa doll from Frozen. I’d lost count of how many times she’d begged for one, only for Monica to brush her off with excuses. And now, Monica had brought home this broken, secondhand Barbie—its paint chipped, one arm missing. It wasn’t even Elsa. It was Sophie’s cast-off. The irony was suffocating. Monica, an executive at a prestigious company, couldn’t even buy her own daughter a new toy. Instead, she expected Emily to play with Sophie’s rejects. Ever since David came into our lives, Monica had hurt me in ways I thought I could no longer feel. But when it came to Emily, I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. “Monica,” I said, my voice trembling with rage, “if you love Sophie so much, why don’t you go be her mother? We’re done. I want a divorce.” Monica grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. “Are you out of your mind, Noah?” she snapped. “I’ve been supporting this family for years while you sat at home playing house. You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out!” “And now you want a divorce because I said a few things about Emily? Let me tell you something—Emily turned out the way she did because of you. You made her weak.” She opened her mouth to say more, but her phone rang, cutting her off. When she saw the caller ID, her expression softened immediately. “Oh, Sophie, don’t worry, sweetheart. Auntie’s coming right now.” Her voice was warm and tender, full of concern. But when she turned to me, her face hardened again. “Fine. You want a divorce? Do whatever you want.” She grabbed her coat and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. To her, I was just a lovesick fool. She probably thought I’d come crawling back as soon as she tossed me a few kind words. Once, I might have. I’d stayed silent, endured everything, just to give Emily a complete family. But my silence had cost my daughter her life. I wanted to leave this house, this city, this grief behind. But then I thought—why should I go? If anyone should leave, it was Monica and David Lee. So, I changed the locks that same night. If she wanted to be Sophie’s mother so badly, then she could stay with Sophie forever. But she wouldn’t be coming back here. Not to this house. Not to me.
Monica and I fell in love in college. At the time, she was drowning in $30,000 of debt left behind by her parents after their sudden deaths in a car crash. Each day, she survived on boiled cabbage in a run-down apartment, hiding from creditors. I gave her every penny of my scholarship money and part-time job earnings. For three years, we worked together to pay off the debt. After graduation, we both landed jobs at a prestigious company thanks to our stellar academic performance. A year into our careers, I bought an engagement ring, decorated a small apartment we could call home, and proposed to her. Monica was overcome with emotion, crying as she said yes. Not long after we got married, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Monica was so excited to name the baby that she spent hours flipping through name dictionaries. She would curl up in my arms at night, softly reciting the names she’d picked out to the baby in her belly. I teased her for being overly sentimental, but she just smiled and said, “This is only the beginning. One day, I’ll read bedtime stories to her every night. Fairy tales, adventures, and the story of how we fell in love.” After our daughter was born, the company downsized. To support Monica’s ambitions, I quit my job and became a stay-at-home dad, taking care of Emily full-time. Every evening, Monica would come home with a small gift for me or Emily. Our life was simple, but it was warm and full of love. Back then, I truly believed this happiness would last forever. But then David came back into her life. I’d known about David even before we got married. He wasn’t just Monica’s first love—he was her “one that got away.” One night, I heard her mumbling his name in her sleep. I’d heard the story before. They grew up as childhood sweethearts and were even engaged at one point. But after Monica’s parents passed and she was left with their debt, David broke it off and moved with his family to another city. At our wedding, Monica had tears in her eyes as she thanked me. “Thank you, Noah, for giving me a home again.” I held her tightly, thinking only of the pain she’d endured and the strength it had given her. I never realized she was still carrying the weight of her past—David included. The first time I met David was at the hospital. It was pouring rain. He was kneeling in the lobby with a little girl by his side, begging the doctors to save her life. Monica froze when she heard his voice. She turned toward him instinctively, and the moment their eyes met, I saw the panic on her face. She hesitated, visibly flustered, before whispering to me that we should let him have our appointment slot because “the child looked so pitiful.” David’s daughter, Sophie, had a congenital heart defect and needed a transplant to survive. But finding a donor wasn’t easy, so they were relying on medication to keep her alive for as long as possible. After that, Monica started visiting the hospital more frequently, and her relationship with David and Sophie grew closer. Meanwhile, the time she spent with me and Emily dwindled. She would talk endlessly about “Sophie,” comparing her to Emily, and the warm smiles she once gave us became rare. I thought that once Sophie’s situation stabilized, Monica would come to her senses and resume her role as a mother. But I was naive. It took losing Emily for me to realize how wrong I was. Monica and I had been together for nine years. Nine years, reduced to a single sheet of divorce papers. When I signed the organ donation consent form for Emily, my hands were trembling. Organ donation has to happen quickly. Emily was always kind and selfless. Two years ago, she’d seen a news report about donors and told me that if she ever passed away, she wanted to help others in need. This was her wish, and I honored it. But as I watched her tiny, lifeless body lying there, my heart felt like it was being torn apart. “Emily, are you frowning because your stomach still hurts?” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Sleep peacefully now, my sweet girl. Daddy will make sure the people who hurt you pay for what they’ve done.” After the organs were harvested, the hospital prepared Emily’s body for cremation. Not long after Monica left, I received a call from the hospital. It was the director. “Noah, we understand this is an incredibly difficult time, but there’s something we need to discuss. Emily’s heart… it’s already been removed.” “I don’t care,” I said coldly. “We’re not donating it.” There was a long pause before he hesitantly replied, “Sir, the transplant was scheduled for today. The patient—” “Is her name Sophie Lee?” I interrupted, my voice ice cold. “I’m sorry, but we can’t disclose patient information. Please reconsider—” I hung up. Later that day, I sat in Emily’s room, holding her ashes in my lap. “Look, Emily,” I whispered, forcing a smile as I held up an Elsa doll I’d just bought. “Daddy finally got you the one you wanted.” The sunlight streamed through the window, but every step I took on the way home felt like walking on broken glass. The pain was unbearable. And it only got worse when I reached my house and heard Monica screaming outside. “That bastard Noah changed the locks! David, don’t worry—I’ll handle this. I’ll make him pay!” David sighed theatrically. “Let it go, Monica. I’m sure Emily didn’t mean any harm.” He looked every bit the victim, his face etched with false sorrow. Monica’s anger flared even higher. She turned to the building security guard and shouted, “Break the lock!” “What are you doing?” I demanded as I approached. Monica spotted me and stormed over, grabbing my collar. “Where did Emily hide it?” she snarled. “That little thief stole Sophie’s Elsa doll! What a disgrace of a child!” I froze, disbelief washing over me. My wife didn’t know that Emily was gone… and here she was, accusing her of theft. “I’ve given her everything—how dare she steal from Sophie! Do you know Sophie is so upset about this that she doesn’t even want to go through with her surgery?” “She’s evil! How could a child be so malicious at such a young age?” “Stop, Monica,” David said gently, tugging at her sleeve. “She’s just a kid. We’ll find the doll and move on.” I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. Sophie’s surgery was delayed because they couldn’t find a donor, yet Monica had the audacity to blame my daughter. “Do you have any proof?” I asked coldly. “If you’re so confident, why not check the security cameras?” David paled, his fake righteousness faltering as he stammered, “There’s no need for that. Let’s just drop it.” Monica patted his hand reassuringly, then turned to glare at me. “Sophie told us herself,” she said. “And Sophie doesn’t lie.” I stared at her, my heart growing colder with every word. Monica didn’t even need evidence. She was willing to condemn her own daughter based purely on the word of someone else’s child.
“Today, I’m here, and no one—no one—will slander my daughter!” I clutched the urn tightly to my chest, my hands trembling. David’s eyes narrowed as he noticed my protective grip and the faint outline of the Elsa doll taped to the urn. His gaze locked onto it, and a triumphant grin spread across his face. “Monica, look! That’s the doll!” he shouted. Monica’s expression shifted to one of smug satisfaction. Her voice was icy as she declared, “Caught red-handed. And you still want to deny it?” With that, she lunged forward, reaching for the urn. Instinctively, I pulled it closer to me, cradling it as if it were my daughter herself. To them, though, this act of desperation only made me look more guilty. Monica let out a derisive snort and, with David’s help, grabbed at my hands, prying my fingers away from the urn. “Stop it! Don’t touch it!” I shouted, trying desperately to hold on. But against their combined strength, I couldn’t win. With a loud crash, the urn fell to the ground, shattering on impact. Ashes scattered everywhere. I dropped to my knees, frantic and heartbroken, trying to gather what was left. “Ugh! What the hell is this? It’s so disgusting!” David recoiled, covering his nose in exaggerated disgust. Monica turned to me, her face twisted in anger and disbelief. “Noah Carter, are you insane? What is this mess? Did you plan this because you knew David is allergic to dust? Were you trying to sabotage him?” She waved at the security guards. “Get rid of this filth. Flush it down the toilet!” Her voice became background noise as I ignored her, crawling on the floor like a man possessed, trying to scoop up my daughter’s ashes with trembling hands. “Stop! Don’t touch her!” I screamed, my voice ragged and desperate. The guards, perhaps fearing I’d cause a scene, restrained me, pinning my shoulders to the ground. I thrashed against their hold, but I was powerless to stop them. I could only watch helplessly as they swept up Emily’s ashes like trash, preparing to dispose of them. I failed you, Emily. I couldn’t protect you while you were alive, and now, I can’t even shield you in death. The pain was too much to bear. My chest tightened, and blood surged up my throat. With a wrenching cough, I spat it out, staining the floor red. “Noah!” Monica’s voice broke into a shriek as she stepped back in alarm. She waved frantically at the guards to release me. I barely registered her panic. Weak and trembling, I crawled toward the scattered ashes, my body too broken to stand. David watched me with a sneer, his lips curling as if he were about to say something cruel. But before he could, his phone rang. He answered with his usual air of confidence, but his face fell almost immediately. The voice on the other end was loud enough for me to hear: “Mr. Lee, I’m sorry to inform you that the heart transplant surgery for Sophie has been canceled. The donor’s family has withdrawn their consent.” “What?!” David shouted, his voice tight with panic. The hospital director’s voice was grim. “The donor’s condition was a perfect match, but the family changed their mind at the last minute. Sophie’s condition is critical—if we delay any longer, her chances of survival will drop significantly.”
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