My name was Felicity Simons. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I told my husband, Roger Dent, that I wanted a gemstone necklace. Roger frowned, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Felicity, when did you become so materialistic?” Even our son, Orion Dent, who had been born after a difficult labor, chimed in with disapproval, “Mom, you should learn from Ms. Miller. “She’s not like you—so obsessed with money. If I could, I’d want Ms. Miller to be my mom.” Looking at the serious expressions on both their faces, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I sighed, “Then let Lillian be your mom.” As soon as the words left my lips, the room fell into a heavy silence. Roger rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. “Felicity, don’t say such things to Orion.” But Orion seemed oddly cheerful, his eyes lighting up. “Dad, Mom agreed! When are you going to bring Ms. Miller home?” Hearing Orion’s words only strengthened my resolve to leave. In his eyes, Lillian was the better mom. I closed my eyes for a moment, then turned and walked toward the bedroom. While I was packing my things, Roger walked in. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, the familiar scent of pine enveloping me. I should have found it comforting, but now it felt nauseating, tainted by the scent of another woman, Lillian Miller. His low voice broke the silence. “Felicity, Orion is still young. Why argue with him? I’ll take you to the jewelry store soon.” With that, Roger kissed the back of my neck, his touch both warm and tender, as if we were still in the throes of romance. But I remained aloof, pulling away from his embrace without even looking up. I continued packing. “Let’s get a divorce.” I handed him the divorce papers I had prepared, my tone as flat as if I were discussing the weather. Roger’s brow knitted tighter. “Is this about the necklace?” His voice was laced with barely concealed anger. Thoughts raced through my mind. I mused, “Maybe I should tell him today is our fifth anniversary. Or that he hasn’t given me a gift in ages.” But as the words hovered on my lips, I lost the desire to waste my breath. “Yeah.” Roger fell silent for a moment before responding, “What about Orion? Are you really going to leave him without a mother?” Five years had flown by in the blink of an eye. I could still picture Orion’s wrinkled little face when he was born and the sweet way he called me “Mom” for the first time. But somewhere along the way, he started bringing up Lillian more often. “Ms. Miller is so amazing! She can make clay sculptures. Mom, I wish you could do that too.” Gradually, he stopped admiring me and stopped defending me. He didn’t even seem to need me anymore. “I don’t want either of you. You and him, I’m done.” Even though my heart ached, I managed to sound calm as I spoke. We locked eyes, the silence stretching between us. Roger’s expression hardened. He grabbed my wrist with a grip so tight it felt like he was trying to crush my bones. “Felicity Simons. I never thought you were so vain. After all these years, you’re just going to throw it all away?” He rarely used my full name, and it was clear he was genuinely angry this time. Even at this point, he still thought it was all about that necklace.
“Divorce, huh?” In an instant, Roger released me, grabbed the pen from the desk, and signed the papers with swift precision. Watching him scrawl his name, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, and for the first time, I sensed a flicker of emotion on my face. Just then, Orion peeked his head through the door, sensing that something was off. “Mom, are you and Dad fighting?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. I silently pulled out a thick notebook from the desk and crouched down to his level. “When I’m gone, you need to remember what’s in here,” I said, handing it to him. Curious, he flipped it open, revealing a list filled with his allergies to fruits and vegetables. He pouted, quickly shutting the book. “I don’t want to remember all this! “Ms. Miller will take care of me. “Don’t worry, Mom.” In the past, hearing those words would have shattered my heart, but this time, an unexpected sense of relief washed over me. I stood up and casually placed the notebook back on the desk. “Well, that settles it then.” With that, I grabbed my neatly packed suitcase and headed for the door. No one stopped me—not Roger, not Orion. Not a single person came to see me off. As I reached the threshold, I heard Orion’s excited voice behind me. “Finally, that annoying mom is gone! Now I can have Ms. Miller as my mom!” I hesitated for a moment, but my feet moved faster. Seven years with Roger, five of them married. I had lived with him in a cramped, damp basement, and I had eaten day-old leftovers day in and day out. He used to hold me close, tears dampening my shoulder. “Felicity, this life won’t last forever. I promise I’ll give you the best life someday,” Roger had whispered softly. Then, he built his empire from scratch, becoming a respected figure in the business world. Roger grew busier, often staying out late. I never complained, always managing the household and keeping everything in order. The one thing I had resented faded away the moment I gave birth to Orion. Even though it nearly cost me my life, I welcomed the pain. Countless sleepless nights, I had soothed him again and again. But somewhere along the line, Orion began mentioning one name over and over—Ms. Miller. Even Roger, who was usually so indifferent, would light up with a hint of joy when he spoke of her. Only later did I learn that Lillian was a new hire at Roger’s company. At first, I brushed it off, not thinking much of it. Then, one day, when Orion threw a tantrum for candy, I firmly refused, knowing his dental health was poor. He yelled at me, red-faced, “Mom, you’re nothing like Ms. Miller! “You’re a bad mom! “You took Dad away from her and won’t let me have candy!” At that moment, it felt like I had plunged into an ice-cold abyss. The chill seeped through my bones, and my blood rushed to my head. I stood there, stunned, as my own child hurled insults at me. It turned out Lillian had been Roger’s first love, a passionate romance that had ended in a twist of fate. Since then, she had wormed her way into our lives. Roger started smelling like her perfume, and once, I even found a light brown hair on his shoulder. But back then, I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t until today that I finally decided to file for divorce, cutting ties without hesitation.
I returned to my little rented apartment. It might be small, but it had a warmth that felt like home. I settled into my old routine, writing articles during the day and watering the succulents by the window in my spare time. Roger and Orion were nothing but distant memories now. Life was getting back on track, except for one little detail—Mia Simons. A few days ago, as I was leaving the building, I stumbled upon a dirty little girl huddled in the stairwell. She looked to be about seven or eight, her small frame curled up tightly, not moving an inch. I asked my neighbors about her. They told me she had been kicked out by her stepmother and that her biological parents treated her like a burden. No one was willing to step up and take responsibility for her. Seeing the pity on my neighbors’ faces, I couldn’t just walk away. I dropped a bag of bread in front of her. “Here, eat this,” I said softly, crouching down to meet her gaze. It took her a while, but she finally looked up at me. I felt a wave of relief wash over me when I saw her take a bite of the bread. But instead of leaving, the girl trailed behind me like a lost puppy, clutching the bag to her chest, her eyes wide with fear as if she thought I might push her away. I tried to harden my heart, but compassion won out in the end. After some back and forth, I decided to take her in. Mia was a sweet girl. Whenever I worked, she quietly tidied up the apartment. Whether it was folding blankets or doing laundry, her movements were so practiced that it was like she had done it a thousand times before. I often wondered what a seven-year-old like her had been through. Orion, her age, still needed my help just to pour a glass of water. One day, I lost track of time while writing. Suddenly, I was jolted back to reality when Mia gently opened my door, carrying a cup of warm water. “Mom, drink this,” she said quietly. The soft yellow light illuminated her, making her look unbelievably sweet. It reminded me of Orion. I recalled a time when I was bedridden with a bad cold, feeling utterly drained and my throat raw with pain. Orion, on the other hand, was sprawled on the couch, completely absorbed in his video games, laughing and having a blast. “Orion, could you get me a glass of water?” His little face scrunched up in annoyance, a perfect mirror of Roger’s impatience. “Mom, you’ve got to handle your own stuff. Ms. Miller wouldn’t be this much of a hassle.” Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly felt a soft, warm hand gently caressing my cheek. That was when I realized I was crying. “Mom, don’t cry,” Mia said, straining to lift her arm, her eyes filled with concern. I quickly wiped my tears and pulled her into a tight embrace. From that moment on, we would lean on each other. I never expected trouble to come knocking so soon. Just after I picked Mia up from school one day, I ran into Orion. He was holding Roger’s hand with one hand and Lillian’s with the other, laughing and looking like the picture of happiness. Lillian gazed at Roger with a soft, shy look, while Orion, the little comedian, was doing his best to make her smile. Without me, they seemed like a perfect little family. In the past, this sight would have crushed me, and I might have shouted at Roger in a fit of rage. But thankfully, that wasn’t who I was anymore. As I contemplated playing it cool and walking past them like a stranger, Orion spotted me instantly. His eyes lit up at first but then quickly darkened with anger. He let go of Roger and Lillian’s hands and stormed over to me. “Who said you could hold my mom’s hand?” he demanded, chin raised defiantly, his little face scrunched up in displeasure. Mia, unlike her usual shy self, tightened her grip on my hand and pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing at Orion with a hint of defiance. “She’s my mom,” Mia asserted firmly, standing her ground in front of Orion. For a brief moment, Orion seemed taken aback. Then he looked up at me with disbelief. “No way! You’re so mean for stealing someone else’s mom!” His little face flushed with anger, and in a fit, he shoved Mia to the ground. I frowned, quickly helping Mia back to her feet, ready to scold Orion for his behavior. But Mia didn’t back down; she pushed Orion back with determination. His tiny frame wobbled for a moment before he tumbled over, crashing to the ground. The impact seemed to sting because he immediately burst into tears, flailing his legs in a dramatic display of protest. “Mom, she’s bullying me!” he cried out, his tears smearing across his cheeks. Honestly, I felt no sympathy for him. I just stood there, arms crossed, watching him throw a tantrum. “Listen, Orion, I’m not your mom anymore. “Your favorite Ms. Miller is right here with you. “You should be telling her all this, not me,” I replied coolly.
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