At the filming location of a children’s variety show, I told my husband, Hank Schrader, that I wanted a divorce. Aside from money and property, I didn’t want anything else. He sneered, “You’re not even going to fight for the child you worked so hard to raise?” I replied, “Get as far away as possible.” Because I already knew that my son had once begged the director, “Can we get a new mom? I want to be on the show with Ms. White. I don’t want that old hag as my mom!” I smirked coldly. I wouldn’t just divorce him. I’d step over him to climb even higher! “I don’t want that old hag as my mom! Dad, what do you even see in her? Ms. White is so much prettier than my mom!” I clutched my phone so tightly that my fingertips turned white, but I didn’t even notice. Beneath the video, there was a voice message from Suzanne White. She spoke with mockery and arrogance. “So what if you had kids with Hank? They still prefer being with me. “You want to be on the show with him? I’d advise you to stop being a clingy, disgusting pest. Hank will only despise you even more!” I stood frozen for a moment, then cruelly played the video again. In it, my son, Alex Schrader, spoke those words, and Hank merely chuckled softly. “Alright.” Then he looked up with eyes full of warmth and tenderness, gazing directly into the camera. “Then let’s have Suzanne be your mom.” I paused. It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t looking at Alex but at Suzanne, who was filming the video. That tender gaze… I couldn’t even remember when he last looked at me like that. When he did look at me, it was always with disgust, cold indifference, and disdain. When they returned home, I was clearing away dishes and cake from the table. Today was Alex’s birthday. I had started early, spending my whole morning cooking and decorating. But it wasn’t until I saw Suzanne’s message that I realized they never intended to celebrate with me. Alex bounded up to me, his tone filled with entitlement. “What are you sitting here for? Can’t you see Dad’s drinking? Go make him some coffee!” The old me would have jumped up immediately, flustered and obediently attending to his every whim. But today, I laughed. A bitter, scornful laugh. “Go ask your mom to do it,” I said. Alex frowned in confusion. “What’s wrong with you? You are my mom!” “Can we get a new mom? I want Ms. White to be my mom,” I mimicked sarcastically. “Didn’t you say that yourself?” Seeing his stunned expression, I swallowed my bitterness and forced a wry smile. But Hank was angry. “Adrienne, Alex is just a kid. He doesn’t know any better. Why are you picking fights with him?” With a disapproving expression, he scolded me, “Can you stop making trouble? Your shouting is giving me a headache.” Before I could respond, he continued, “There’s a new kids’ reality show coming up. I don’t think you’re in the right state for it, so let’s leave you out.” Even though I had braced myself for these words, they still pierced me. I blinked, ready to respond, but he cut me off again. “Besides,” he said with certainty, “Alex wasn’t wrong. You can’t do anything right these days. You’re just an old hag. You’d only embarrass me if you went.”
I lifted my eyes to meet his. He wore a crisp white shirt that accentuated his tall, lean frame and sharp, chiseled features. His eyes radiated nothing but cold indifference. Even at thirty, he was still impossibly handsome. But was I really so much worse? We had once been a golden couple in the entertainment industry, the perfect match. Seven years ago, I became the youngest actress ever to win Best Actress, earning both fame and fortune. Then, I got pregnant. Hank had gently placed his hand on my belly, filled with concern. “Adrienne, now that you’re pregnant, you should stop filming. It’s too dangerous.” I nodded eagerly, brimming with joy and anticipation for our child. Then Alex was born prematurely. He weighed only 4.6 pounds, no bigger than the palm of my hand. A fragile, delicate bundle curled up in an incubator. Guilt and love overwhelmed me. I postponed my return to acting again, devoting myself entirely to caring for him. When he first learned to say “Mommy”, he cupped my face in his tiny hands and said, “Mommy, you’re so pretty. You’re the most beautiful mommy in the world.” When had he stopped calling me “Mommy”? When had I become nothing more than an “old hag” to him? I let out a bitter laugh and shattered their illusions. “The contract for the kids’ show is already signed. If you don’t want me there, pay the breach of contract fee.” Time passed quickly. I had just finished drafting the divorce papers when it was time for the show’s recording. Growing Together was a live-streamed variety show featuring six families. Besides my family, Suzanne appeared with her niece, Vicky. Singer, Aaron Banks, joined with his younger brother, Jesse Banks. Three other families were ordinary parents and children. “Hank, you’re finally here!” Suzanne’s tone was sweet and coy as she sauntered toward us, a taunting smile playing on her lips. She didn’t even need to make an effort. My husband and son would naturally gravitate toward her. Like a cannonball, Alex hurtled past me, full of joy as he dashed into her arms. I wasn’t prepared for the sudden shove. I stumbled forward, nearly falling. When I finally regained my balance and turned around, no one noticed my awkwardness. Alex clung to Suzanne, chattering happily as he snuggled against her. Hank stood protectively by their side. They looked more like a family. It wasn’t just my own perception, even the online viewers agreed.
[I think Hank and Suzanne are a better match. They look like a real family. So warm.] [Alex ran straight to Suzanne. It’s obvious he likes her more. Seems like his taste matches his dad’s.] [It may be wrong, but I can’t help shipping them, they’re so sweet together!] Though I had already decided on divorce, ten years of love had left a bitterness in my chest that swelled painfully. I pulled my gaze away in silence, feeling a pounding headache begin to bloom. Once all the families had arrived, the mayor of the small town where the show was being filmed finally made his entrance. He announced the first task, choosing houses. The production team had provided six houses, numbered from one to six. The lower the number, the better the living conditions. House No. 1 was a charming new two-story home surrounded by blooming flowers, while House No. 6 stood next to a pigsty, teeming with flies and reeking of an odd stench. I grimaced as I looked at the miserable state of House No. 6, feeling a surge of resistance. Silently, I swore to myself, “No way would I end up there!” The order for choosing houses would depend on the results of a cooking competition. The town mayor beamed and said, “Kids, be sure to help your moms and dads! You’ll be the judges this time.” The children’s excited cheers filled the air as the contest began. Right from the start, trouble arose on my end. Hank and Alex both ran to Suzanne’s side to help her, leaving me standing alone in isolation. Hank smiled warmly at Suzanne as he helped her rinse vegetables. Meanwhile, Alex, competing for attention, grumbled, “Dad, I want to help Ms. White too! Stop hogging the work!” Suzanne laughed, patting his head in amusement. “Don’t worry, Alex, I’ve got an important job just for you.” She smiled sweetly while casting a deliberately disdainful glance my way. I met her provocative stare in silence. But Suzanne pressed her advantage, feigning distress. “Adrienne, I have no idea why they keep hovering around me. If it bothers you, I can send them back.” Her posture radiated the air of a hostess, and it actually made me laugh. I smirked coldly. “No need! They’re just a couple of nuisances.” Meanwhile, the live comments lit up with outrage. [What’s up with Adrienne’s attitude? She’s just a washed-up star, what’s she got to be so arrogant about? How dare she talk to Suzanne like that?] [No wonder her husband and son both like Suzanne better, she’s got some serious issues.] Time had changed things; my fans had disappeared during my years of retirement. Suzanne, evidently aware of the comments, allowed a triumphant glint to show in her eyes. “Sorry, Adrienne, but it looks like Hank and Alex don’t want to leave.” Even as Suzanne and I argued, Hank never spared me a glance. He gently rested his hand on Suzanne’s back, leaning in to whisper something. He didn’t speak aloud, but I understood. He said, “Don’t bother with her. She’s just a shrew.”
I turned my gaze elsewhere, swallowing the churning emotions stirred by the word “shrew”. When Alex was a baby, born prematurely, he was often ill. I remembered the time he burned with fever, his tiny body aflame and trembling with convulsions. Panicked, I frantically called Hank, who was filming at the time. Overcome with emotion, my voice cracked and shrilled, “Hank, come to the hospital, something’s wrong with Alex!” I could hear his irritation over the phone. “I’m working. Handle it yourself. I’m not a doctor, what good would I do?” Clutching Alex, I froze in place, fury boiling over. “Is your movie more important than your son?!” He sighed, weary. “Why are you acting like a shrew?” He hung up, leaving me alone to dash around the hospital with our fevered child in my arms. Even as Alex’s fever worsened into pneumonia, Hank never showed up. Disillusionment doesn’t hit all at once, it builds, piece by piece. I wrenched myself out of the painful memory, focusing on preparing my dish. Since children were the judges, I felt confident in my chances. After all, even my picky, delicate Alex had grown up healthy on my cooking. Unlike Suzanne’s fancy seafood spread, I opted for simple but universally loved buffalo wings. It had been Alex’s favorite dish. He would devour every last bite, licking the plate clean as if he could swallow it whole. When the dishes were finished, each was divided into small portions for the children to taste. Surrounded by gourmet meals, the kids flocked to my buffalo wings. Every vote was mine, except for Alex’s. He stepped in front of the others, arms wide in protest. “Don’t eat the buffalo wings! They’re awful! “My mom’s buffalo wings are terrible. I’ve had them so many times and hated every bite. I’m her son, trust me!” Hesitation rippled through the children. Finally, Jesse, the younger brother of Aaron Banks, spoke up. “But… they smell really good.” I watched as Alex blocked votes against me, then eagerly promoted Suzanne’s dish. It was obvious he simply didn’t want me to win. But fate didn’t favor him this time. When the rankings were announced, I claimed first place and chose House No. 1 without hesitation. Suzanne’s seafood feast was difficult for the children to eat and earned only two votes from Alex and Vicky. She ended up stuck with House No. 6. The moment the rankings were revealed, Suzanne’s face turned pale, her eyes pleading as she glanced at Hank for help. I had no interest in their wordless exchanges and only wanted to rest. But just as I turned, someone grabbed my arm. Hank frowned slightly, speaking with unwarranted authority. “Adrienne, give House No. 1 to Suzanne. She’s not in good health and can’t stay in House No. 6.”
My actions froze instantly. I turned and stared at him, unwavering. It felt as if my heart had been gouged out, the continuous stabbing pain numbing me into weary acceptance. I laughed bitterly in my fury. “Why should I?” He frowned slightly, as though I were being unreasonable. “Adrienne, can you stop being so selfish? It’s just a room.” Alex rushed over, his face stern. “You’re so cruel! Dad already said Ms. White isn’t well. What if she gets sick in that awful place?” “And what about me?” With the last thread of hope, I ignored Alex’s fists pummeling my stomach, and locked eyes with Hank. He only remembered Suzanne’s frail health but had conveniently forgotten my severe allergy to mosquitoes. Once, during a film shoot deep in the mountains, a mosquito bite sent me into anaphylactic shock. I collapsed, my heart stopped, and I nearly died. The incident even made the headlines. Back then, Hank had clutched my hand tightly, his eyes full of regret and sorrow. He’d promised me, “Adrienne, I’ll never let you go through something like this again.” But now? When had he forgotten even that? My emotions toward Hank’s farewell were not something that arose in an instant. It was the sudden provocative video, Hank’s repeated distant and evasive gazes, and more importantly, the fact that he gradually started to forget the details of our relationship. A flicker of memory seemed to surface in Hank’s mind. He pressed his lips together and avoided my gaze. For a brief moment, his face turned pale. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was even a trace of guilt in his eyes. Then, Suzanne let out a delicate cough and spoke in her soft, considerate tone. “It’s fine, Hank. If Adrienne doesn’t want to, I can stay in House No. 6. It’s no trouble.” Her words only strengthened Hank’s resolve. His eyes hardened as he turned back to me. “Adrienne, stop being childish. Suzanne isn’t someone you can compare to.” After the numbness came calm acceptance and then surrender. I didn’t feel the sorrow I had anticipated. My voice was cold, my smile sharper. “No. Why should I hand over the room I earned?” But I had overlooked one crucial thing. The right to choose belonged to the children. Alex reminded me of the rules, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “I pick House No. 1 for Ms. White.” Once again, and for the final time, I looked into Alex’s face as he eagerly sought Suzanne’s approval. Deep within my gaze, I buried my disappointment and farewell. Without warning, I spoke clearly and decisively. “Hank, I want a divorce.”
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