I stood by the window, watching the street below. My fingers twitched as I held my cigarette, my mind restless. She was late. Not too late, but late enough for my thoughts to spiral.
And then I saw it.
A sleek, black Mercedes slowed down in front of our house. The headlights flickered against the pavement. The driver was a man I had never seen before. And then, the passenger door opened—and she stepped out.
My stomach twisted. She leaned into the car for a brief moment, said something, and then smiled. A soft, casual smile—one I hadn’t seen in a long time. Then, she closed the door and turned towards the house as the car pulled away.
Something inside me snapped.
She walked through the front door, her purse swinging from her shoulder.
– “Who was that?” My voice was sharper than I intended.
She blinked, surprised. – “What?”
– “The man. The car. Who was he?”
She sighed, tossing her keys onto the table. – “Oh, for God’s sake, Daniel. That was Anna’s husband. He gave me a ride home from work. What is wrong with you?”
I didn’t hear the rest. The blood roared in my ears. My vision blurred. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand moved on its own.
The sound of the slap echoed through the room.
She stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek. Her lips parted in shock, and then, slowly, blood trickled from her nose.
I froze.
I had never laid a hand on her before. Not once. But in that moment, I saw something in her eyes I had never seen before—not anger, not disappointment—fear.
She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She just… looked at me. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away.
The next day, the divorce papers arrived.
The Court Took Everything, Even My Son
– “I put up with your jealousy, your accusations,” her voice was empty, void of emotion. “But this? This is unforgivable.”
I begged. I pleaded. I swore it was a mistake. That I had lost control for just a second. That I would never, ever do it again. But she didn’t care.
And then came the final blow—in court, she claimed I was aggressive towards our son.
It was a lie. A damn lie. I would never hurt him. But who would believe me? A man who had already raised his hand against his wife?
The judge didn’t even hesitate.
I was given a strict visitation schedule—once a week. Only in designated locations. Only under specific conditions.
For six months, I lived for that one day a week. That one precious day when I could hold my son, talk to him, listen to his laughter. And then, just like that, the time would be up, and he would be taken back to her.
Then, My Five-Year-Old Told Me the Truth
He was growing up fast. Too fast. And now, he was starting to notice things.
– “Dad, Mommy left again last night,” he said casually as he played with his toy cars.
My heart stopped. – “Left? Where did she go?”
– “I don’t know. She said someone would take care of me.”
I felt my hands clench. Someone?
– “Who, buddy? Who takes care of you when Mommy isn’t home?”
– “A lady. She comes when Mommy leaves.”
A chill ran down my spine. I had to find out the truth. And when I did, I saw red.
She had hired a babysitter.
While I sat alone in my apartment, counting the days until I could see my son, she was leaving him with some random stranger?
I didn’t even think—I called her immediately.
– “Why the hell is he staying with a babysitter when I’m right here?”
Her voice was cold, detached. – “Because it’s easier.”
– “Easier?! Are you serious? He’s my son! If you’re not home, he should be with me!”
– “I’m not driving him all the way to you every night just because you’re feeling guilty now.”
I nearly shattered my phone.
What do I do? Take her to court? Fight for custody? But what if they rule against me again?
I had made one terrible mistake. One unforgivable mistake. And because of it, I lost everything.
But I still had one thing left to fight for—my son.
I would not let her keep him away from me.
I would not let another stranger raise him while I was still here.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
