The Day Our Son Called Him Mister

After leaving the office, I went straight to the kindergarten to pick up Leo.

The first thing my son said when he saw me was:

"Mom, today is my birthday."

The second thing he said was:

"Mom, will Dad celebrate with me?"

Standing on the bustling street, my eyes instantly welled with tears.

"Your father, he..."

Before I could finish, my phone chimed.

Julian had finally deigned to reply.

[I'm free. Coming home.]

A jolt of surprised joy shot through me.

"Don't worry, Leo. Dad is coming home."

My son clapped his hands and threw himself into my arms with a whoop of excitement.

In six years of marriage, this would be the first time Julian was willing to celebrate our son's birthday.

That evening, I filled the kitchen with the aroma of Julian's favorite dishes while Leo meticulously finished a special birthday drawing for his dad.

One hour, two hours, three hours...

I sent message after message, but just like always, they vanished into a void.

Leo seemed to sense something was wrong and looked up at me cautiously.

"Mom, is Dad just too busy?"

A sharp pang of guilt shot through me. I wanted to defend him, but I couldn't utter a single word.

In the end, all I could manage was:

"It's okay. Mom will always be with you."

Leo didn't ask again and obediently picked up his little birthday hat.

"Mom, can you help me put it on?"

I nodded. Just as I reached for it, I happened to glimpse Jessica's updated Instagram Story.

[Such an amazing day. Absolutely loved it.]

The accompanying photo showed two champagne flutes at a chic Manhattan rooftop bar. In the corner of the picture, I saw Julian's wrist. On his cuff was the anniversary link I had given him.

Even though his face wasn't visible, I recognized it instantly.

I'd had them custom-made for him when we got married.

He, however, had never cared for sentimental things.

How ironic.

A memento I cherished was merely an accessory for his date with another woman.

On his son's sixth birthday, he was at a rooftop bar on a romantic date with his assistant.

All the bitterness of the moment dissolved into a cold, hollow calm.

I calmly lit a single candle on the cake and set my phone aside, screen-down.

I turned and gently placed the birthday hat on my son's head.

"Leo, happy birthday."

In the candlelight, my son closed his eyes and clasped his hands together.

"My birthday wish is to be with Mom forever."

I picked up my phone and captured the moment.

The thought of leaving, once a seed of desperation, had now grown into a towering, unshakeable tree.

"Okay, Mom promises you."

That night, neither of us mentioned Julian again.

It was as if this family had only ever consisted of the two of us.

After Leo fell asleep, I pulled the prepared divorce papers from the drawer.

The last trace of my hesitation vanished.

At two in the morning, Julian finally returned.

Seeing the untouched cake on the table, a flicker of regret crossed his face.

"Sorry, I forgot."

I almost laughed. All those messages I'd sent.

Did he really not see them?

Or was another woman's embrace so intoxicating that he could forget the existence of his own son?

I took out the divorce papers, flipped to the last page where my signature sat in neat cursive, and handed them to him, forcing my voice to remain steady.

"Just sign this..."

Before I could finish, Julian's phone rang.

Jessica's panicked voice spilled from the speakerphone.

"Mr. Thorne, I think the power's out in my SoHo apartment. Can you come over? I'm so scared."

Julian immediately shot to his feet, his face etched with genuine concern.

"Wait there. I'm on my way."

After hanging up, he scribbled a hasty signature on the document without a second glance.

I stepped aside and watched quietly as he rushed out the door.

*Julian, you'd better remember this moment.*

*This family... you're the one who threw it all away.*