Never Whole Again

I begged my husband 304 times before he finally agreed to spend a birthday with our seriously ill daughter.

We waited until the cake on the table melted and the warmth slowly left our daughter’s body, but he never showed up.

Then, his first love shared a photo on social media. In it, my husband had one arm around her and the other holding her child. Behind them stood a towering birthday cake display.

Our daughter had waited five years for a birthday cake that never came. Yet another child received it without even trying.

The caption read: The promised tiered cake is finally here!

I quietly liked the post. Soon after, he texted me, demanding an explanation.

[How many times do I have to tell you? Miranda’s daughter is dealing with depression, and I need to be there for her. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.]

I looked down at the child in my arms, whose body had gone completely cold.

“Alright,” I said softly. “I won’t do that again.”

Three days after our daughter Bonnie died, I ran into my husband, Sean Gower, at the hospital in the early hours of the morning.

He was carrying Miranda Larkin’s daughter, Kelsey Larkin. As he rushed toward the emergency room, shouting for a doctor, he kept glancing back to comfort the crying Miranda.

He looked every bit like a devoted husband and a caring father if one ignored the fact that he had no blood relation to the child.

His reckless dash through the narrow hallway left several people injured.

It was only after Kelsey was taken into the examination room that Sean went around apologizing to everyone with Miranda.

The last trace of apology vanished from his face when he saw me getting up from the floor. He looked at me with open disgust.

“What are you doing here? Are you following us?”

Perhaps the pain of losing Bonnie had already numbed my heart so completely that I could no longer react to his mockery.

When I did not respond, Miranda stepped forward and linked her arm through Sean’s. She looked at me apologetically.

“Sorry, Phoebe. Sean’s just too worried about Kelsey, so his tone might’ve come off a little harsh.”

She then nudged Sean in mock reproach.

“Phoebe came all the way to the hospital. Go on and keep her company. Don’t worry. I’ll stay with Kelsey and take care of her.”

Sean frowned, and his tone was laced with displeasure.

“How can you manage this on your own? Kelsey isn’t a little kid anymore. It’s too much trouble for you to be running around with her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay here with you today. I’m not going anywhere.”

After that, he shot me a warning glance, like a father wholly devoted to protecting his child.

“It’s one thing to like a post, but you even followed us all the way to the hospital and left our child at home alone! Is this how you act as a mother?”

I clutched the death certificate as the hollow ache in my chest returned.

Bonnie had spent a full month begging Sean before he finally agreed to spend a birthday with her. It had only taken him a minute to break his promise.

Before he left the house, I had swallowed my grief and told him the truth.

“Bonnie’s leukemia has reached its final stage, and she doesn’t have much time left. This is her last birthday—”

Sean cut me off impatiently before I could finish.

“Are you done, Phoebe? It’s always leukemia and the final stage. You’ve been repeating the same story for more than two years now.

“I’ve already set up a birthday party for Kelsey. If you insist on celebrating Bonnie’s birthday, just wait two more days. I’ll make it up to her when I have time.”

With that, he strode away without looking back.

That night, Bonnie cried until her condition worsened, and she passed away soon after.

I held her as her body went cold, calling Sean over and over again. It was only after I saw Miranda’s post on social media that I finally gave up completely.