Choosing Love Over Duty

My daughter has a sudden allergic reaction, and my husband, an expert in these things, is the only one who can save her.

I call him at this critical juncture, but his childhood sweetheart is the one who answers. "Clinton is busy. He wants me to tell you not to call him if it's not important."

There's no time for me to get mad. I say anxiously, "Tell him to come to the hospital now. Ivy has had an allergic reaction and is waiting for him to save her."

Clinton Reeves says impatiently, "Gemma and I are just watching a soccer match. Do you have to joke around with Ivy's life? I'm so disappointed in you."

Later, Ivy dies in the hospital, her body covered in rashes. I wipe my tears and call Clinton once more. I say icily, "Let's get a divorce."

The first thing I hear is his and Gemma Walken's laughter. After a while, he says, "Sure, but Ivy is mine."

"Sweetheart, hold on just a little longer. Daddy will be here soon," I said as I clutched my daughter, Ivy Reeves' hand tightly.

Watching her breathing grow more labored, I couldn't stand it any longer and dialed Clinton Reeves' number again. The phone rang for a long time, and my hope dwindled with every second.

Just when I was about to give up, the call connected, and Clinton's irritated voice came through, "What now? Can't you just have a doctor give Ivy some medicine? Why do I have to come back?"

"Clinton, Ivy's condition is serious! The doctors won't administer anything without you here. You're the only one who can help her," I shouted out of frustration.

In the background, I could hear the roar of a crowd and cheers for a goal.

Clinton's tone turned placating as he said to someone, "Relax. Your favorite player's about to hit the field. Let me finish this call."

Then, his voice turned cold when he spoke to me, "I'm well aware of Ivy's condition. Stop using her as an excuse to drag me back. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to cut you off."

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

Ivy's fragile voice pulled me back. "Mommy, I don't want to die. Is Daddy not coming?"

I fought back tears and forced a smile to comfort her, saying, "No, sweetheart. Daddy loves you the most. He'll be here. Just hold on a bit longer."

Turning to Dr. Marlon, I pleaded desperately, "Please, Dr. Marlon, think of something."

He sighed and shook his head helplessly. "I've done all I can. If Dr. Reeves were here, he'd know what to do. Let me try calling him again."

I nodded and stared at Dr. Marlon expectantly. However, all of our hopes were dashed when the automatic voice said, "This number is no longer reachable."

Before I knew it, the heart monitor beeped sharply, then fell into a flat line.

"Quick! Get the defibrillator!" Dr. Marlon commanded.

The sight of Ivy's body covered in red rashes pierced my heart like a knife.

I was pushed aside by the medical team. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor with tears blurring my vision.

I begged silently to anyone listening, "Please, don't take Ivy. She's just a child."

But when I saw the white sheet being drawn over her tiny body, my world shattered.

Throwing myself over Ivy's still form, I wailed, "No! She's not gone! Look! Her hands are still warm!"

A nurse pulled me back. "Mrs. Reeves, my condolences. Let her go in peace."

Ivy's death crushed me in ways I couldn't describe.

I forced myself to handle her funeral arrangements, while Clinton was nowhere to be found. I had even forgotten about him as I numbly wiped Ivy's urn over and over again.

…

Three days later, Clinton finally returned. I gave him a hollow glance and said nothing.

Clinton frowned in annoyance. "What's with the sour face? Here's a gift for you and Ivy. Stop sulking."

I looked at the box he held out, only to find yet another identical doll.

Ivy had once grumbled to me, "Mommy, Daddy bought me three of these already! I don't even like them. He doesn't care about me at all."

I had smiled as I ruffled her hair and made excuses for Clinton.

"He's just really busy with work. He takes care of so many patients every day, and it must be exhausting for him. Let's not hold this against him, okay? I promise I'll scold him when he gets back and make him apologize. Then, he'll get you something you like next time."

Ivy had scrunched her face in frustration. "Forget it. Daddy's a superhero, so I won't get mad at him. Mommy, make sure you save him some food, okay? He might be hungry after work."

My heart had ached at Ivy's thoughtfulness. I'd kissed her cheek gently and said, "Alright."

Ivy had always seen her father as a hero. She could never bring herself to blame him.

But Clinton wasn't a hero. He was too busy spending time with his childhood sweetheart.

I had believed my silence and sacrifices could hold our family together, but I was wrong. And because of a man like him, my daughter had lost her life.

I turned to Clinton and uttered curtly, "No need. Ivy and I don't want it anymore. We're getting a divorce. Get out."

Clinton's expression darkened. "Suzy, my patience is limited. If you push me, don't regret it later."

Without a word, I placed Ivy's urn in its resting place. Then, I threw his so-called gift into the trash.

"Have you lost your mind? Why the hell did you throw away the gift I bought for Ivy?" he snapped, grabbing my wrist.

I bellowed, "Ivy's gone! And now, you're pretending to care?!"

Yanking off my wedding ring, I threw it at him and continued, "Isn't there another game with Gemma you'd rather watch? Go! Stay as long as you want. No one will disturb you anymore."

I stared at Clinton's face, and my disgust only deepened.

How blind and foolish had I been? How could I ever have believed I would be able to warm the heart of someone who didn't even have one in the first place?

Back in college, I was harassed and followed by a group of thugs. Clinton had saved me that night, even getting injured in the process.

Out of guilt, I had taken care of him for two months as he recovered. Somewhere along the way, I'd fallen in love with him without realizing it.

But at that time, his heart had belonged to Gemma Walken.

Clinton had rejected me more than once. He would say, "Suzy, helping you was my choice. If it had been any other girl that night, I'd have done the same thing."

I would shake my head and say tearfully, "Clinton, I love you. I'm certain it's not out of guilt."

He'd wiped away my tears. "Give me some time. I need to figure out how I feel about us."

I had been so desperate for his love that I eagerly agreed. But not long after, I'd received news that Clinton and Gemma had gotten together.