In the second year following my divorce, I unexpectedly encountered my ex-wife, Cora, at City Hall. She was accompanied by our daughter and her childhood friend, Logan. They really looked like the perfect family. My daughter ran excitedly to me, wrapping her arms around my leg. “Daddy, Sweetie really misses you.” I gently disengaged her hold and turned to Cora. “Are you here for your marriage certificate? Congratulations and best wishes!” Her smile was awkward. “Actually, I’m here for a divorce.” Then she quickly asked, “Are you getting married?” I waved the document I held. “No, I’m just getting a single status certificate.” 1. I didn’t expect to see Cora again, especially not at City Hall. I had just collected my new single status certificate when I saw Cora walking towards me, her head down. She looked surprised, staring blankly at me. “How have you been over these two years?” I wasn’t one for small talk with my ex, especially given the metaphorical shadow of betrayal that still lingered. I brushed her off as I headed toward the exit. “Not too bad.” She hastened to catch up, gripping my arm. “Are you getting married?” What was her interest in my marital status? Seeing my impatience, Cora released my sleeve and attempted to make conversation. “It’s been two years since we last saw each other.” Indeed, the last time we met was two years ago, here. That day marked the end of our three-year marriage. I negotiated custody of my daughter and left with nothing but the divorce papers. At the entrance, she asked, “When will you come back to pick up your things?” I glanced at the sky and then at her. “How about now?” I took only the key to the old house and the sole photo I had with my father. As I was leaving, Cora, holding our daughter’s hand, stopped me. “Leave the key.” I didn’t stop unlocking the door, replying quietly, “It’s on the table.” Her voice was filled with frustration from behind. “You wanted the divorce. Logan has no family or friends, and he’s depressed. What’s wrong with me spending more time with him? Why do you have an issue with him?” “Even Sweetie knows to give more companionship and warmth.” I glanced back to see my daughter nodding earnestly, while Cora looked at me with disappointment. Under their accusatory stares, I quickly rolled my wheelchair away. Logan had no family or friends, but I had only her and our daughter. I looked at the photo with my father. Now, there was no need to worry about Logan. My wife and daughter were no longer mine. 2. Logan was Cora’s childhood friend; they grew up together. Logan’s father was the Johnson family’s chauffeur. When Cora was seven, she accidentally started the car, and the driver saved her at the cost of his life. Since then, as a repayment for the life-saving debt, Logan became like another child to the Johnson family, eating and living with Cora. During their teenage years, emotions ran high, and the handsome boy and pretty girl became an acknowledged couple, exploring young love. Afterward, Logan was sent to study in India. For years, they maintained contact online, sharing their innermost thoughts. This continued until COVID-19 struck, affecting the real economy, and the Johnson family fell into debt. Around this time, I rescued Cora from a dangerous situation involving some thugs. I stood by Cora through the economic downturn, welcoming a recovery and the birth of our daughter. On our daughter’s second birthday party, Logan suddenly appeared. He looked deeply into Cora’s eyes, expressing how much he missed her and recounting his struggles with COVID-19 and the difficulty of returning home. This day also marked our third wedding anniversary. Cora sobbed in Logan’s arms. What followed was a familiar tragedy. Everything that was mine became his. Cora took Logan for a full medical check-up; his post-COVID symptoms weren’t resolved, and he was diagnosed with severe depression. Cora noticed the scars on Logan’s wrist by accident. “Declan, the doctor said people with self-harming behavior shouldn’t be left alone. They need love and warmth.” Unwilling to give up, I asked, “So?” “He has no other family. I want to bring him home for convenience in taking care of him.” “I have no other family either.” Hearing this, Cora’s face instantly changed. “How can you be so selfish? He’s a patient who needs companionship, and you’re not sick.” She almost said that if I didn’t agree to let Logan live with us, I was unforgivably evil. Seeing this, I didn’t insist further. For months, I was busy with work at the company, while Cora took care of Logan and our daughter at home. I felt like an outsider. One day, while working, a tire fell from a height and struck my leg. As I sat in the ambulance, only one thought crossed my mind: “Finally, I need someone to take care of me.” 3. My injury was sudden but not fatal. Cora didn’t set aside much time for me. By the time I was discharged, she had only visited symbolically twice, each time not exceeding half an hour. My injury wasn’t severe, just a fractured leg. But it takes 100 days for bones and tendons to heal. So I began recuperating under the same roof as Logan. The difference was he stayed in the room next to the master bedroom upstairs, and I stayed in the guest room downstairs. Cora said climbing stairs would be inconvenient with my injured leg. “Declan, you don’t mind, do you? His room is closer, making it easier for me to take care of him. You won’t have to climb up and down.” “I don’t mind.” Out of basic human decency, saving a life is more virtuous than building a seven-story pagoda. As long as you don’t end up in each other’s beds, I don’t mind. Logan would come downstairs to see me every day, especially when Cora was around. One day, while discussing his condition, Logan mentioned gaining weight from the steroids. He seemed down, capturing Cora’s already limited attention. Like a whirlwind, she took Logan and Sweetie out for some exercise. They were a picture-perfect family of three. At dinner, I couldn’t bring myself to eat the take-out Cora had packed for me. It was all Logan’s favorite foods, none of which I could eat. Cora’s face was radiant with pleasure. “Declan, why aren’t you eating? Logan picked this Sichuan restaurant, and it’s really good.” “The doctor advised me against spicy food.” Cora hesitated for a moment. “I just wanted Logan to eat more and recover quickly. You just have a fracture. Eating a little shouldn’t be a problem, right?” I squeezed my chopsticks, glancing at Logan’s provoking expression. “Yeah, it’s fine.” 4. Out of sheer stubbornness, I ate the heavily spiced meal. Even though I guzzled water afterward, my wound still got infected, leading to a high fever. This time, Cora accompanied me to the hospital. I hadn’t even cooled down when Logan came in after me. His depression had flared up, and he had slit his wrists. When Cora rushed to Logan’s VIP room, she forgot to take Sweetie. Half-conscious, I heard my daughter’s sweet, childish voice making a wish. At first, it comforted me—whatever Cora was, my daughter was still mine. “I wish my daddy would die from the fever so Uncle Logan could be my dad.” When someone teased her about why she wanted a new dad, she said, “Uncle Logan is clean, handsome, and smells nice.” My daughter, whom I had cherished, thought I was dirty and smelly and wanted someone else as her dad. While Cora and our daughter accompanied Logan in his VIP room, I was left with a nurse aide in an ordinary ward. From doctors and nurses to family members of other patients, everyone thought they were a family of three. Logan sent me a photo with a taunting remark, “You’re just a greasy mechanic. How can you compete with me?” In the photo, Cora wore a nightgown, curled up in Logan’s arms, sleeping soundly. On the other side, Sweetie was sleeping with her little butt sticking up. I stared at the photo all night, repeatedly confirming it was taken on the bed I had scoured the city to buy for our wedding. Morning came, and with it, a realization. Before I could suggest a divorce, Cora came to me first. Logan’s mom had somehow found out about him and went to the hospital asking for child support. Logan had a breakdown from the stress, so Cora came to me filled with rage. I picked up the evidence she had thrown in my face, the printed chat records of my payments to Logan’s mom. “You knew Logan needed peace. Why did you bring that woman here? Now he wants to commit suicide. Are you happy?” Cora was emotional, hitting my fractured leg as she spoke. “I was just taking care of him and wasn’t going to divorce you. Can’t you understand?” I knew arguing was pointless; she wouldn’t believe me. I took out the printed divorce papers. “Let’s divorce. That way, you can always take care of him.” 5. City Hall is never short on business; people often come in pairs. Cora stood facing me from two meters away. She said, “I tried to find you later, but I couldn’t get in touch.” When we divorced, I only took my father’s photo and the key to the old house. When she was looking for me, I was probably recuperating at the old house. It was only a half-hour drive away, a place she never wanted to step into. Even the photo, if she looked closely, she could recognize it. “Do you need something?” Cora looked at me, hesitating. Finally, she murmured, “Sweetie misses her dad. She says she wants her dad.” I replied indifferently, “Doesn’t she already have a dad? The dad she hoped for—Uncle Logan.” Initially, hearing my daughter wish for my death was like my heart being torn apart. But two years later, I’ve come to terms with it. I didn’t want to reminisce with my ex-wife, especially since I was in a hurry to get to the relocation office. I glanced at my watch. “I’m pressed for time…” Before I could say goodbye, a pink little missile shot over, hugging my leg tightly. “Daddy, you’re here! Sweetie really, really missed you.” It was our daughter. I looked down at her and saw my reflection in her face. I pinched her cheek, slowly moving my leg away. Logan was trailing behind, looking much more haggard than two years ago, but his mouth was still foul. “You’re like a haunting spirit, drawn here by the stench.” From his tone, he thought I was here to cause trouble. Honestly, if I had known they were registering their marriage today, I would’ve postponed picking up the compensation to avoid this. “Congratulations, finally tying the knot.” All three of them stared at me; Cora’s expression was complicated, Sweetie looked confused, and Jasper’s face was nearly etched with resentment. I was utterly confused. Cora bit her lip, holding Sweetie’s hand, and then looked up to meet my eyes. “Do you really not know, or are you pretending…?” Sweetie, being young, chimed in, “Dad, it’s not…” Cora interrupted her, “I’m here for a divorce today.” My mind went blank. I wondered why it took them so long to register if they finally got together. It turns out they were already married. And now, they were splitting up. What happened over these past two years? Sweetie saw my shock and tugged on my sleeve, pouting. “Dad, come home with Mom and me.” I snapped out of it, patted Sweetie’s head but didn’t answer her. After all, she was a daughter I truly loved; I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her. Perhaps my silence gave Cora some hope. “Declan, we…”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295666”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply