My wife was a master of the silent treatment. A flicker of unhappiness, a slammed door, and she’d be gone for ten days, sometimes half a month. I’d grown used to it, used to adjusting my emotions, smiling, and taking care of our son. Until the day I was helping Leo with his homework and saw his wish. “I wish Dad would disappear.” “He’s so scary when he loses it with Mom.” From that moment on, I finally woke up. Sunday nights were always the hardest to stomach. My procrastinating son was bawling his eyes out, trying to finish tomorrow’s homework, while Scarlett, the queen of the silent treatment, had her headphones on, lost in her game, probably having the time of her life. No one wanted anything to do with me. Leo, after being scolded by me, glared at me with resentment. Scarlett, annoyed, pretended I didn’t exist. I stood by the dining table, clearing the dinner mess, silently convincing myself it was all my own doing. But my heart ached unbearably. Late that night, Scarlett retreated to the study, Leo finally fell asleep with tears still clinging to his eyelashes, and I stood in the bathroom, staring at my exhausted reflection. This was the third month Scarlett and I had been locked in this silent battle. Three full months, long enough for me to almost forget what started it. Under the same roof, she hadn’t said a word to me, and I stubbornly held my ground, silently declaring war right back. She was in the wrong; I wouldn’t apologize, but I couldn’t sleep. I walked into Leo’s bedroom to pack his school bag. I looked down, and then I saw the new notebook I’d bought him lying on his desk. In the ‘Wishes & Rewards’ section, written in his childish handwriting: “I wish Dad would disappear.” I rubbed my eyes, my first thought being that I’d misread it. Clutching the notebook, I walked into the living room. I read the line again. “I wish Dad would disappear.” “He’s so scary when he loses it with Mom, he drove Mom away.” I collapsed onto the couch, feeling a hollow ache I’d never known before, a pain so deep it turned into numbness. The study light flickered on, and Scarlett emerged, a radiant smile on her face – that spring-breeze glow she usually reserved for others. The moment her eyes landed on me, it vanished, replaced by her usual glacial stare. She said nothing, picked up her car keys from the coffee table. As she walked past me, I caught the faint scent of her perfume. Gardenia. I’d picked it out for her in college when we were dating. Back then, she was just a girl who wore black-framed glasses and T-shirts with jeans, never bothering with makeup. I slowly helped her discover a new style, and chose my favorite perfume for her. “Wearing perfume to meet people always leaves a good impression.” She’d said she’d cherish everything I chose for her. And she’d been using it ever since. The familiar scent slowly prised open my heart, and sweet memories of our past flooded my mind. I thought of our ridiculous war, of my deeply loved son. The pain Leo brought me made me desperately search for a point of leverage. I was about to give in to Scarlett again. I couldn’t stop myself from standing up, grabbing her arm tightly. “Scarlett, let’s talk, properly.” She shook off my hand. I saw her phone screen lit up, showing an active call. It was late. Who was she talking to this late, and why had she specifically put on perfume to meet them? “Scarlett, are you heading out? I’m waiting downstairs. Seriously craving some BBQ.” A young man’s voice came through the phone. His clear, youthful voice instantly reminded me of what started this silent treatment. I quickly turned to walk away, but Scarlett grabbed me back. A slight smirk played on her lips, her eyebrow arching. “Beg me, and I’ll stay with you and Leo.” She always loved seeing me broken, begging for her mercy, especially now, with another young man vying for her attention. Her staying would be a mere condescending charity.
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Beg you? Was Leo born solely from me? Aren’t you his mother?” “Is caring for our child my responsibility alone? Don’t you have any?” “Do you even realize how messed up our son’s mind is right now?” Scarlett frowned again, pressing her lips together. She looked at me like I was insane, snatched her coat, and slammed the door shut behind her. Leo’s notebook, with his wish for me to disappear, was still on the couch. Scarlett had left the study light on. It was always like this. Whenever there was a problem to solve, she’d either lightly fan the flames, watching me lose my mind, or she’d simply ignore everything, turn around, and slam the door. The slamming door woke Leo. He padded out of his room barefoot, standing at the doorway, staring in the direction his mom had left. He walked over to me, picking up the notebook I’d tossed on the couch. He didn’t seem worried that I’d seen what was inside, only frowned and accused me. “Dad, why did you make Mom angry again?” I ignored him. Downstairs, a car engine rumbled to life. After a few powerful revs, a black car peeled out, disappearing into the night. Tomorrow, I’d have to bike Leo to school again. I looked at the notebook clutched in Leo’s hand. And those eyes, so much like his mother’s. For the first time, I profoundly realized how trapped I’d been by her all this time. I dragged myself into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. I closed my eyes, and “Dad disappear” appeared before me in bold letters. Honestly, I’d never once lost my temper or yelled at Leo. To avoid conflict, I’d even gone to great lengths, sacrificing my dignity to appease Scarlett. I’d begged Scarlett to come home, begged her to hug our son. I couldn’t sleep. My phone screen lit up on the nightstand. A SnapChat message from my neighbor, Mark Sullivan. “Heard your wife slammed the door and left again. You two fighting? You okay?” Mark and I had met when I was selling my handmade items on eBay. Back then, Scarlett was giving me the silent treatment, cutting off my allowance to force me to give in. I had no income and had to pick up odd jobs to make ends meet. As it turned out, we were neighbors. He even bought my stuff, supported my small business, and checked in on me. I heard Leo close his bedroom door. I replied: “Thanks, Mark, I’m fine.” I woke up the next morning feeling utterly drained. My eyes were swollen almost shut. Scarlett was back, the lingering gardenia scent now completely drowned out by the heavy smell of alcohol. She noticed me, her gaze lingering on my face for only a second before darting away. This wasn’t the silent treatment; she frowned, walked into the bathroom, making thinly veiled jabs. “Seriously, who are you trying to scare looking like that?” I knew she was waiting for me to snap back, to watch me lose it, and then she’d leave again, indifferent. But I was tired. I said nothing. She looked at me, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place in her eyes. Then, with an overly affectionate smile, she went into Leo’s bedroom. “Come on, sweetheart, Mom’s taking you to school today.” Two completely different attitudes, as if she were two different people. They walked out hand-in-hand, chatting intimately. No one cared about me. It felt like two sharp blades piercing my heart.
When I opened the door to take out the trash, I ran into Mark. He saw me and practically pulled me inside his apartment. He handed me an ice pack wrapped in a towel, his eyes filled with concern, his brow furrowed. “You doing okay?” His concern reminded me of Scarlett when we first got married. Back then, Scarlett and I were broke. In a city like NYC, where every square foot cost a fortune, all we could afford was a tiny, rundown basement apartment. We squeezed onto a small bed, and the bathroom and kitchen were shared, quite a distance from our room. One day, I’d just finished cooking and was carrying the dishes to our room when I collided with someone rushing past. I instinctively angled the hot dish toward myself, and a large patch of skin on the back of my hand was badly scalded. When Scarlett came home from work, I was afraid she’d worry, so I wore gloves. But she still noticed. I quickly pulled my hand back, smiling, saying it didn’t hurt at all. Scarlett looked at my hand, fumbling to apply ointment. Back then, her eyes were red too, tears flowing endlessly. She cried, rubbing her eyes, “Daniel Miller, I promise I’ll give you the best life in the world someday!” That night, she held me, talking softly all through the night. “Daniel, I won’t let you get hurt again.” Even now, I believe she truly loved me then. But when did she change? Now, she and I were like two ticking time bombs, strapped together. The smallest friction, and we could explode at any moment. Of course, Scarlett was the silent type of bomb, a dud that didn’t explode with a bang but rather released a terrifying, suffocating smoke that seeped into every corner of my life. It made me gasp for air, made me want to scream until my throat was raw. When I got home, they were already gone. The kitchen was cold, and on the wet bathroom floor lay Leo’s discarded clothes. There were several dirty shoe prints in the living room. I sat on the couch and opened my laptop. I started drafting the divorce papers. My education was just as good as Scarlett’s. Before becoming a stay-at-home dad, I graduated from a prestigious university, passed the bar exam, got my license, and worked as a practicing attorney for two years. I used to pull in a six-figure income, won many cases for my clients, and was a rising star in my field. The turning point came after Scarlett got pregnant. She was at the most crucial, high-stakes phase of her career, with a brand-new, incredibly demanding project landed squarely on her shoulders. That meant frequent business trips, endless meetings, and being on call constantly. One late night, she came home, dragging her tired body, and held me in silence for a long time. Then she said, “Daniel, I’ve done the math. My income is going to grow fast, and the project bonuses are substantial. But if both of us are pushing ourselves this hard, what happens when the baby comes? Leave them with a nanny? Can you really do that?” She looked into my eyes, her voice gentle yet firm. “I know this isn’t fair to you. But a reliable nanny outside would cost almost as much as your current after-tax salary. And… who could be as dedicated as a biological dad?” I wavered. She seized the moment, taking my hand. “Just a few years. Once this project stabilizes and I’ve established myself, we can hire a professional household assistant. Then you can go back to work. With your abilities, I know you’ll be fine. For now, let’s consider this a strategic division of labor for our future, okay?” She gently placed my hand on her swollen belly. “See? The baby needs their dad too.” That one sentence shattered all my defenses. I was overwhelmed by a sense of being intensely needed, even “sanctified.” I envisioned myself as the indispensable, powerful father providing security for our child. When I submitted my resignation, my mentor sadly patted my shoulder. “Daniel, think carefully. Once you leave this legal world, it’s incredibly tough to get back in.” I just smiled, my heart full of anticipation for my new role. Looking back, Scarlett’s silent treatment began subtly around that time. Perhaps when I truly shed my professional identity and spent my days revolving around bottles and diapers, the “sharpness” she once admired in me faded. I slowly transformed from a “partner in arms” to merely an “appendage dependent on her income.” And her change in attitude was like a dull knife slowly carving away at me, little by little, eroding my sense of self-worth.
It was almost evening by the time I finished drafting the divorce papers. Scarlett hadn’t brought Leo home yet. Out of habit, I started worrying about Leo’s homework, then I raised my hand and slapped myself hard. “Even as a dad, I need to be tough. Like his mom.” Then Scarlett called. But the voice on the other end was Caleb’s. “Daniel, it’s me. Scarlett’s had too much to drink and can’t get home by herself. Can you come pick her up?” “You take her home, you two seem pretty close, don’t you?” I glanced at the divorce papers on the table, then changed my mind. “Forget it, I’ll go get her.” I hung up and rushed to the party room as fast as I could. Inside, it was a chaotic mix of people. Besides Caleb, who had called me, everyone else was a stranger. But they all stared at me, their eyes filled with accusation, as if blaming me for not being a good stay-at-home dad. Scarlett was sitting at the head of the table, her face flushed, still raising an empty glass to drink. Leo was next to her, his schoolbag tossed on the floor. Caleb, looking trendy as always, had Leo perched on his lap, chatting away with him. So this was how she took care of our son. No wonder my years of slogging away at home, raising Leo, couldn’t hold a candle to her occasional ‘fun’ outings. I hadn’t even stepped fully inside when Leo shrieked. “Mom, I’m not going home with Dad! Dad’s just going to make me do homework again!” Leo started screaming, dodging around like I was a monster, which finally prompted Scarlett to pretend to open her eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie, Mom’s here.” Then, someone else in the room started lecturing me with earnest advice. “Daniel, don’t hold a grudge with Scarlett. She’s been crashing at my place for nearly two months now because of you.” “Mine too! Scarlett’s been staying at my house for almost a month, my husband’s even started complaining.” Caleb, who was still by Scarlett’s side, stepped forward. “Daniel, when Scarlett and I talk, she often mentions you and Leo. She really does care about you guys.” That’s when I realized this call wasn’t really for me to pick up Scarlett. They wanted me to break down, get on my knees, apologize to Scarlett, and beg her to come home. I scoffed. “Always with these ‘poor me’ stories. Can’t she just come home herself? Doesn’t she have legs?” “I work my ass off taking care of our son at home, but that’s not ‘suffering.’ She throws a fit and slams the door, and that’s suffering?” “If living it up outside is ‘suffering,’ then maybe you and I should switch places, Scarlett. Stop pretending to be drunk.” “Do you want me to talk about what you’ve done in private, or right here, in front of everyone?” Caleb, who was still beside her, instantly paled. “Daniel, those were all misunderstandings.” Misunderstandings? Fooling around and almost cheating on me while drunk, and when I confronted her, she couldn’t answer, so she gave me the silent treatment instead. Scarlett’s face turned cold again, and she said nothing. She shot Leo a dark look, and he instantly slumped, dragging his feet towards me. As he walked, he kept looking back longingly at Scarlett, hoping she’d call him back. That way, he could keep playing and wouldn’t have to do schoolwork. It was her subtle way of telling me to get lost, taking Leo with me. She wanted to stay here and enjoy herself. Why was it always like this? I was completely fed up. I stood my ground, pulling out the divorce papers.
“Scarlett, we’re getting a divorce.” The noisy room instantly fell silent. Scarlett Hayes finally looked up at me. Her eyes were predictably clear and sharp. Seven years of marriage, no matter how bad our fights got, I had never once mentioned divorce. Scarlett knew my personality: once I decided on something, there was no turning back. She rose from the leather couch in a panic, covering the distance between us in a few steps. “Are you serious?” She was finally willing to look me in the eye and speak normally. She looked down at Leo, then scoffed, “Daniel, if you want a divorce, you’re not getting Leo. He’d rather be with me anyway.” “Stop messing around.” Scarlett was convinced I’d fight for Leo. She wasn’t blind; she knew how much I’d endured and suffered for him over the years. Leo clung tightly to his mother, glaring at me with resentment, as if terrified I’d snatch him away. “Dad, I don’t want you. I want Mom.” Caleb also walked over, a knowing smirk on his face as he advised me. “Daniel, at your age, without a house or a job, you won’t get custody of Leo.” “Just take Leo home. There’s no point staying mad at each other overnight.” I clenched my jaw, my knuckles white on the divorce papers. I knew what I’d face when I came here, but seeing everyone’s disdain and disapproval still made me falter. But no. I pinched myself hard. I reminded myself: Daniel, you have to be ruthless. Softness is a weakness to those who love you, but to those who don’t, it’s just a joke. “Scarlett, don’t worry.” “When we divorce, I don’t want Leo, and I don’t want the house.”
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