3.
"Barbara says a mom is the person around a baby most of the time, so she can't be eating junk food."
"Are you really that lazy? You can't even find time to cook while holding the baby?"
I was too hungry to even have the strength to argue, so I carried my daughter back into the bedroom.
Vivian was floating on all that flattery, and the way he looked at Barbara had changed.
Like he'd finally found someone who understood him.
The way he looked at me wasn't so gentle.
"You want a divorce? I'll draw up the agreement right now."
"That two hundred thousand you lent me at the start, I'll hand it back to you, and you can take the kid and get out immediately."
"But how your family treats you after that, well, that's not my problem to worry about."
He was using my own family to threaten me.
The last few times I'd fought with him, my mom had called and torn into me.
If I divorced him, my only option was to go back to my parents, and that meant one of two roads.
Either my family would bully me into swallowing my pride and coming back to apologize, or I'd be out on the street with my child.
He was already certain which one I'd pick.
I let out a bitter little laugh. He thought I'd caved, and he kept going.
"I knew you couldn't bear to leave. You just take care of yourself and stay out of things between me and Barbara."
"We're just good buddies. What's wrong with spending a little money on a friend?"
"And she's even teaching you—"
I cut him off.
"The divorce agreement. Let's draw it up right now."
"I only want my own money and my own things."
He froze for a second, disbelief in his eyes. The words were already out, and now he'd backed himself into a corner. The anger on his face only deepened.
"You said it yourself. Don't come crying later."
"I've already sent the agreement over. It's an e-signature. You sign, and I'll give you the money."
I didn't really understand the clauses, so I sent it to an AI to check for me.
It matched pretty much everything he'd said, so I signed my name right there.
Once the two hundred thousand landed in my account, Vivian's face went uglier by the second.
He pointed at the door. "The agreement's done. This place isn't your home anymore. Pack your things now and get out."
"Of course, you don't have to go. All you have to do is beg me—"
I carried my daughter back to the bedroom. Her things and mine together didn't even fill a single backpack.
I slung it over my shoulder and walked out without looking back.
Behind me, Vivian slammed the door hard.
Like he was venting, he started hurling things around the room, smashing them to the floor.
"Go, then. Leave. And don't you ever come back."
But I'd stopped wanting to come back a long time ago.
Vivian was furious, but once the anger passed, a hollow feeling crept in.
He went to open the door and chase after me, but Barbara stopped him.
"Vivian, are you stupid? Your wife just wants you to give in."
"A woman knows another woman best. The second you give in, she'll make you change your daughter's nutrition plan and start feeding her meat and eggs, and everything you've sacrificed will be for nothing."
Vivian stopped in his tracks, like he'd already bought it.
Barbara pressed her advantage.
"Just stay home. A woman on her own, with a kid, where's she going to go?"
"She'll come back sooner or later. Treat this as a lesson for her."
With money in hand, the first thing I did was buy formula for my baby.
I found a clean little motel and checked in.
My daughter clutched the bottle and wouldn't let go. It was the first time I'd seen her drink so eagerly, and it eased something in me.
I was still working out how I'd get through the days ahead when my mother called.
The moment I picked up, her furious roar came pouring through.
"Mercedes Floyd, have you lost your mind? You actually dared to get divorced?"
"You go back right now and beg Vivian to cancel that agreement. Even if you have to get on your knees and apologize, you're going back, do you hear me?"
"If you don't do it, then you're no daughter of mine. I didn't raise anything as shameful as you."
She used the most vicious words she could to describe me.
Like I wasn't her own flesh and blood, like she'd picked me up off the ground.
"Am I your daughter?"
"Mom?"
I called out softly.
"You think I'm in the wrong. But I don't see it that way."
"I'm just fighting for one thing, a road where my daughter can grow up healthy."
"I don't want to live like that anymore."
Only rice water, never milk.
Only cloth rags, never diapers.
The whole household's spending squeezed down to pennies.
Anything more, I had to apply for it, and even then he might not give it.
I wasn't Vivian's wife. I was more like his childbearing tool.
"Mom, he can drop two hundred thousand on a dress for his girl buddy, but he won't spare two hundred to have his own daughter's blood drawn."
"I watched my daughter cry from how miserable she felt, and her cry was as weak as a kitten's."
"It hurt me, it broke my heart, she came from my own body."
The line went silent for a second, and the cursing stopped.
Then, a moment later, it started up again.
"Don't be so dramatic. What family doesn't scrape through their marriage the same way?"
"You're just lazy. That man looks after you so well, and you don't know how good you have it."
"If you won't go back and apologize, then don't call me your mother ever again."
