After David finished his undercover operation, it was as if he had become a completely different person. He would often sit by himself, staring out the window, his eyes clouded with a sadness and melancholy that seemed impossible to shake. He no longer lifted our daughter in the air, spinning her around, calling her his little princess. He didn’t come home with surprise bouquets anymore, and even when I tried to be affectionate, he would awkwardly pull away. Then, on the night of Grace’s accident, I saw him standing in the rain, tenderly but desperately kissing another woman. I was still in a meeting when I got the call about Grace’s accident. Hearing the words “died on the spot” felt like a lightning bolt had struck straight through my chest, leaving me shattered. I rushed to Greenwood Memorial Funeral Home, nearly losing my mind, only to see my daughter’s twisted body lying on a cold metal table. The yellow floral sundress I had lovingly put on her that morning was now her burial shroud. The room was chaotic. Some people tried to comfort me, others were questioning what happened. The truck driver was nervously explaining, “She ran across the street! It wasn’t my fault, she came out of nowhere!” I collapsed on the floor, screaming in despair, “She would never run across the street! Where was her father? Where is he?!” “Mrs. Harris, your daughter got off the City Metro Bus alone. We didn’t see any adult with her,” the officer said gently, his voice full of pity. I had always been the one to take Grace to her after-school arts program, except for this one time when she carefully asked if her dad could take her instead. Since David had come back from his year-long undercover work, he had grown distant, cold toward both Grace and me. He spent hours staring off into space, avoiding eye contact, and had stopped calling me “Emma,” switching to the more formal “Mrs. Harris.” He’d make excuses to sit in the car smoking, and when Grace tried to cuddle, he seemed uncomfortable, sometimes even annoyed. Grace, once showered with his affection, didn’t understand why her daddy had changed. In her innocent way, she thought spending time with him might help. I agreed, sent them off, and went to my meeting. I never imagined that this one small decision would cost my daughter her life. I kept calling David, but all I got was a busy signal. With my mother-in-law Carol gravely ill and my parents far away, I was left to face the weight of this tragedy alone. Eventually, with my signature on a piece of paper, Grace was reduced to a small box of ashes. I returned to Pine Ridge Estates, holding her urn like a lifeless shell of myself, only to be stunned by what I saw. David was standing there in the pouring rain, gently tilting another woman’s face up and kissing her deeply. The woman was small and frail, slowly sinking into his embrace as he held her tightly. They kissed with such intensity, they didn’t even notice me standing there, watching. In my mind, scenes of Grace’s horrific death blended with the sight before me, creating a surreal, grotesque picture. At that moment, I didn’t know whether to feel rage or sorrow. I had no energy to scream or confront him. I just stood there, completely numb. I should have seen it coming. David’s job was always unpredictable, and when I married him, I knew I’d have to manage the household on my own. For seven years, I worked during the day and cared for my ailing mother-in-law at night. I took care of every detail of our new home by myself, even carrying tiles up six flights of stairs to save a few hundred dollars. When the neighbors tried to take advantage of me, I had to grab a kitchen knife just to defend myself. Later, during my pregnancy, I fainted in the bathroom and wasn’t found for seven or eight hours. I went through prenatal checkups alone, always feeling out of place among the couples at the clinic. When my water broke in the middle of the night, I took a cab to Saint Mary’s Hospital by myself and signed my own paperwork. In my saddest moments, David wasn’t there. In my happiest moments, he still wasn’t there. I was like a lone ranger, and when people asked where my husband was, I could only give vague answers due to the nature of his work. Eventually, people started to assume I was a widow.
I always told myself it was worth it. He loved his job, and I loved him. We had good times too. When he wasn’t too busy, he’d drive two hours just to buy me a small cake. He’d come home from work with a bouquet of roses. When I was recovering from childbirth, he stayed up all night taking care of Grace, changing diapers, feeding her, handling the housework like a pro. He used to cup my face in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine, and say, “Emma, you’ve done so much. Without you, we wouldn’t have this family.” “I’ll always love you.” Then he left for a year. I didn’t know exactly what his undercover work involved, but I once ran into him at a fish market, chopping fish with the skill of someone who’d seen more than he should. We pretended to be strangers that day, and for a whole year, I heard nothing from him. When David came back, it was like he was someone else. He could go an entire day without saying a word. He stopped caring about anything in the house. At night, he’d lie next to me in bed, but it felt like a chasm separated us. Our home was filled with awkward silences. I tried to bridge the gap between us, but David avoided me at every turn, eventually looking at me with a cold, almost mocking expression. “I never realized how much you wanted sex,” he said once, his tone dripping with sarcasm. It was only now that I finally understood what had gone wrong between us. I stood there for a long time, until the girl finally noticed me. She panicked, pushing David away, her face flushed with embarrassment as she hid in his arms. For a brief moment, David looked flustered too, before quickly regaining his composure. He shielded the girl behind him, calmly saying, “Emma, she’s innocent. Don’t take this out on her. I’ll explain everything when we get home…” “No need,” I said coldly, staring at the man I once loved. I asked slowly and deliberately, “I told you to take Grace to her after-school program. Where were you?” “I got a work call,” David replied, looking guilty. “I couldn’t get away. I saw Grace get on the bus. It was just two blocks after she got off, she knows the way.” A stabbing pain shot through my chest, bending me over as tears mixed with the rain on my face. Grace was only four years old, and he had left her to take a half-hour bus ride alone, then walk another mile. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the world could be, but he still chose to ignore the risks for his own daughter. “Was that work call to kiss this woman?!” My voice rose as I pointed at the girl trembling in his arms. She looked young, probably a college student. She bit her lip nervously, startled by my accusation. David instinctively held her closer, whispering reassurances before turning back to me with irritation in his voice. “Emma, stop scaring her. You used to be more understanding of my job’s demands…” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I lunged at him, slapping him hard across the face. The girl screamed, touching David’s face in concern, her expression filled with sympathy. “We’re getting divorced,” I said, my voice cold and final. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away. Two hours later, David returned. When he saw that I had packed up most of the house, he frowned deeply. “I’m exhausted, can you stop acting like a child and throwing tantrums?” “You think this is a tantrum?” I asked, my voice drained of emotion. I was too tired to even argue anymore.
“David, do you even care about this family anymore? If you did, Grace wouldn’t have—” “Tiffany is like a sister to me,” David interrupted harshly. He fell silent for a long time before he finally began to tell me about the girl. “She’s been taking care of me this whole year. She’s done so much for me.” As he talked about Tiffany, his face softened. “She’s just a kid. She knew I was married, but she couldn’t help falling for me.” “She loves watching superhero shows, has a thing for saving people. She’s gotten into some dangerous situations trying to help me.” “She’s carefree, always wearing short skirts and not caring if they ride up. She even complains that I’m too strict about it.” “We spent so many nights huddled together for warmth, holding hands, legs tangled. She’d talk endlessly about her little problems—like missing credits for graduation or annoying roommates…” He smiled wistfully, as if reliving a more carefree time in his life. “I know our relationship has crossed a line,” he finally admitted, closing his eyes as if in pain. “She’s young and doesn’t understand, but I should. I’ve already cost her a year of her life. I can’t keep holding her back.” It was hard to breathe. Did David even realize what he was saying? He was standing there, telling his wife about his love affair with someone else. It felt like I was the one intruding on his and Tiffany’s love story, as if I was the third wheel, forcing him to give up his true love just to fulfill his responsibilities to our family. David remembered all that Tiffany had done for him. But what about me? Didn’t my seven years of love, my seven years of loyalty, mean anything? After a long silence, I managed to speak. “I’ll give you your freedom.” I grabbed my suitcase and pushed past him, heading for the stairs. David caught my hand, meeting my gaze with a hint of desperation. “Emma, I swear, tonight was the last time I’ll ever see her. I still love you. I want us to give Grace a complete family…” “Don’t you dare mention Grace!” I lost control and hurled my bag at him. The sharp edge of a decoration inside the bag sliced his face and neck, and blood started dripping down. He stood there, stunned, as I walked out without looking back. I rented a small apartment near my office. While dealing with lawyers and packing up my things, I also handled the painful task of arranging Grace’s funeral. In the midst of all this, the hospital called. “Mrs. Harris, your mother-in-law’s condition has worsened. Please come as soon as possible.” My heart clenched, and I quickly grabbed my bag and rushed out. Carol was in the final stages of cancer. Ever since I married David, I had taken on the responsibility of caring for her—handling her daily needs, fetching her medication, and managing her treatments. I couldn’t relieve her pain, but I did everything else I could for her. For seven years, through rain or shine, I made sure to be by her side at the hospital at least four days a week. But for the last two days, with everything happening after Grace’s death, I hadn’t been able to visit her. My mind had been consumed with my own grief and the chaos surrounding it. When I arrived at the hospital, I hurriedly pushed open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Tiffany sitting at Carol’s bedside, smiling brightly as she fed her soup. She wasn’t dressed the way David had described—no short skirts, nothing carefree about her. Instead, she wore long sleeves and pants, modest and neat, looking like the picture-perfect girl next door. Seeing her, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of admiration. Carol seemed completely at ease with her, the two of them chatting happily, almost like mother and daughter. “…Mom,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from exhaustion. Carol turned to me with a warm smile, waving me over. “Emma, come here! This is Tiffany, David’s colleague’s sister. Did he tell you about her?” Tiffany froze when she saw me, her face immediately showing her nervousness. She slowly stood up from the chair, awkwardly fidgeting like a scared rabbit. She mumbled, “We… we’ve met before…” I didn’t say anything, and as the silence stretched, Tiffany’s eyes grew red, tears welling up as she hurriedly ran out of the room, only to bump into David, who had just entered. Seeing him, Tiffany let out a sigh of relief, clutching his sleeve like a lifeline as she hid behind him, her eyes still full of fear. David was holding a medical report in his hand, his brow furrowed as he looked at me accusingly. “Emma, if you have issues with me, that’s fine. But my mom has never done anything to you. Is this how you’ve been taking care of her?” He threw the report onto me, and the words “critical condition,” “organ failure,” and “imminent death” stared back at me from the page. Before I could even speak, Carol’s voice boomed from the bed, “You shut your mouth!” “Without Emma, I’d have died in this hospital with no one to look after me a long time ago! You, on the other hand, barely visit me once in a blue moon. What gives you the right to accuse her of anything?!”
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