After He Publicly Rejected Daughter, I Divorced Him

As dusk settled in, Sean called me:

"Hey Miriam, I'll be home late tonight. Miguel's sick..."

"Okay."

I agreed too quickly, and Sean hesitated, as if expecting more from me.

Thinking I was upset, he spoke with a touch of irritation: "Miriam, don't make this harder than it is."

With that, he hung up.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with several messages.

[Sorry, Miriam. Miguel's been really clingy to his dad lately.]

[But honestly, how could he drop everything and leave you and Braelynn as soon as I called?]

[I’ll talk to him about it, don’t be mad.]

The last one was accompanied by a laughing emoji.

It was from Yareli. Her texts felt more like a challenge than an apology.

I had no desire to engage in a rivalry over a man, so I quickly deleted and blocked her number.

Not long after, Sean called again.

"Miriam, what's going on with you? Yareli apologized, and this is your reaction?"

In the background, I could faintly hear the sounds of a woman and a child crying.

I stayed silent, and after an uncomfortable pause, his voice came through:

"Miriam, how did you turn into someone like this?"

"I'm really disappointed in you."

Even though Yareli was the one who instigated the conflict, her tears would always lead Sean to blame me, casting me as the villain.

When I got home, I began to pack my belongings.

As Sean kept calling, I was consulting with a lawyer. After the divorce, I was entitled to at least 30% of Harrison Ltd.'s shares, and considering our equal parenting skills, custody of Braelynn would likely be awarded to me.

With my last doubts gone, I sorted through my things. Clothes, handbags, jewelry, Braelynn’s favorite toys—all needed to be packed.

When I reached the final box, I paused for a moment, my hands trembling slightly as I broke the dust-covered seal.

Inside was a collection of love letters—from Sean, written from ages 17 to 22.

I picked up the letter on top.

It began:

"Hello, twenty-seven-year-old Miriam, this is seventeen-year-old Sean."

"This is my first love letter to you. As we promised, we’re opening this together in ten years."

"We're surely married by now, and perhaps we even have a beautiful child."

My phone rang. On the line was twenty-seven-year-old Sean:

"Miriam! Yareli took off with the kid, do you know anything? If they get into trouble, I'll never forgive you."

As he spoke, I read the closing line of the letter:

"Yours forever, Sean."

A sharp pain hit my chest, as if something tender had quietly shattered inside me.

I ended the call and threw the box into the fireplace.