Choosing Love Over Duty

Heartbroken, I'd swallowed my feelings and returned to being just friends.

I thought we'd have no more intersections in life.

Then, one night, Clinton had shown up drunk outside my dorm, shouting my name, "Suzy, I was wrong! Gemma never loved me. She left me to go abroad with someone else."

That night had changed everything between us.

Later, Clinton had made a grand gesture to confess his feelings and promised we'd marry after graduation. Two years later, we had a lavish wedding and a beautiful baby girl.

At first, Clinton had been learning how to be a good husband and father. He'd devoted every spare moment to Ivy—listening to her babbling and watching her take her first steps.

When Ivy called him "Daddy" for the first time, he had cried tears of joy.

Clinton would treat Ivy's crude crayon drawing of our family like a masterpiece and proudly display it.

Once, they were molding clay figures together, and Ivy had asked giddily, "Daddy, look! I made our family of three. Do you like it?"

Clinton had pulled me into a hug and smiled at her. "It's perfect, sweetheart. You're amazing."

I'd watched them with a smile and felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

However, everything had changed when Gemma returned to the country.

Clinton stopped prioritizing us. He was rarely home, often missing my birthday and even forgetting Ivy's.

One time, Ivy had sat at the dining table, brimming with excitement as she waited for him. Yet, Clinton never came.

She clung to my arm and whined sadly, "Mommy, why didn't Daddy celebrate my birthday? He hasn't played with me or read me a bedtime story in so long. He doesn't pick me up from school anymore. Did I do something wrong? Is Daddy mad at me?"

Distressed, I hugged her tightly and tried to cover for Clinton.

"No, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong. Daddy's just… He's been really busy with work. How about this? When he's free, we'll all go to the aquarium together. Would you like that?"

But when the day came to visit the aquarium, Clinton didn't show up.

Gemma had twisted her ankle on the stairs, and he'd left Ivy and me behind to rush to her side. It wasn't until the following night that he came home with a doll for Ivy as an apology.

"Daddy was wrong yesterday. Can you forgive me, Ivy?"

All it took for Clinton was handing her a doll, and Ivy's anger had melted away in an instant. "Okay! But you can't leave Mommy and me again! If you do, I'll ignore you forever."

Clinton had laughed and promised, but he continued to break his word.

Now, as I thought of Ivy's desperate will to live and how she'd waited for him until her last breath, my hatred for Clinton grew unbearable.

He didn't deserve to be a father.

Clinton glared at me and demanded sullenly, "What do you mean Ivy's gone? How many times have I told you not to joke about her?"

I shoved him and yelled, "A joke? You think I'm you, Clinton? Someone like you doesn't deserve to be a father. You weren't there when Ivy needed you. From now on, you don't need to be here anymore!"

His face turned grim. "If you want a divorce, fine. But Ivy stays with me."

I scoffed and said, "Then, go talk to Ivy about it yourself—six feet under."

Clinton snapped, "Suzy, don't you dare say one more bad word about her!" He then cast a glance at the urn and sneered. "You really went all out for this charade, huh?"

I let out a cold chuckle and retorted, "If you think I'm bluffing, why don't you check for yourself? Go on, Clinton, or are you scared?"

His eyes widened in anger. "Scared? Don't be ridiculous, Suzy. Stop playing games!"

Just as he reached for the urn, his phone rang. When he saw the caller ID, he quickly picked up. "Don't cry, Gemma. I'll be right there."

Before leaving, Clinton shot me a look of disgust. "Look at you—pathetic. Lying without a second thought. When I get back, I expect you to reflect on your behavior."

I almost laughed at the absurdity. Once, his words might have sent me spiraling into self-doubt.

But now, who cared what he thought?

After spending the day choosing Ivy's burial site, I returned home only to find an unwelcome guest.

I asked flatly, "Why did you bring her here?"

Gemma's eyes were red-rimmed as she said, "Suzy, it's not Clinton's fault. He only took me to watch the soccer match to cheer me up. I didn't know Ivy would have an allergic reaction. It's my fault. Please, just tell Clinton where Ivy is. He's worried sick."

I walked past them and replied, "What does that have to do with me?"

Cradling Ivy's urn, I pressed a soft kiss to it before starting to pack up her belongings.

"Stop this nonsense, Suzy!" Clinton's anger erupted as he snatched the urn from my hands and threw it at me. "I've had enough of your theatrics! Why are you bringing this cursed thing into the house?"

The urn shattered, scattering Ivy's ashes across the floor. Her black-and-white photo fell out as well.

Clinton's face twisted with fury as he took a step forward, his foot grinding into the ashes. "Apologize to Gemma right now, and I'll overlook your behavior these past few days."

My eyes burned with rage. "Dream on, Clinton! You're not fit to call yourself Ivy's father. Get your foot off her. Now!"

"You've gone insane, Suzy. Maybe this will teach you a lesson!"

He shoved me aside and began stomping on the ashes, yelling as he did, "How dare you curse Ivy? You think this nonsense will work on me?"'

Just as he reached down to pick up Ivy's photo, he received a call from his colleague. "Clinton, my condolences. Stay home and take care of Suzy. I've already arranged leave from the hospital for you."

Clinton froze momentarily. "Nick, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I need condolences?"

Nick Henderson paused, then added, "I know Ivy's passing is hard on you, but you have to face it."