I looked at his reddened eyes, then at Ethan’s tear-streaked little face. My heart clenched tight, like something inside me had been caught in a vice.
And yet the word 'okay' refused to leave my lips, stuck in my throat where it burned.
“The divorce papers are already in your email.” I kept my eyes down, reaching for the diapers on the shelf and arranging them one by one. “Sign them as soon as possible. We can negotiate custody, but the marriage must end.”
“Angela!” Jonathan’s voice cracked as it rose, edged with a despair he could barely keep down. “What more do you want from me? I’ve given you all my money, all my time. No matter how troublesome, if you wanted it, I made it happen. What else do you want from me?”
His sudden outburst startled Ethan, who started crying even louder.
Around us, voices clashed—scolding, pleading, and trying to comfort—all tangled together with the child’s wailing until the whole shop felt suffocating, like a net closing in.
I didn’t turn to him. My fingers tightened around the diapers until my knuckles stood out pale.
“I don’t want anything,” I said flatly. “Just your signature on the divorce papers.”
Jonathan stepped forward suddenly, practically pressing Ethan into my arms. “Angela, hold Ethan. Look at him. He’s crying so pitifully. For the child’s sake, let’s not get divorced, alright?”
Ethan’s small face was flushed from crying, his tiny hands clutching at my clothes.
His muffled sobs escaped between choked words.
"Mama.”
Warm tears slid down the back of my hand.
My heart twisted tightly.
My fingers trembled with the urge to grab Ethan and hold on forever. But then the image of that fish tank flickered in my mind—Jonathan standing in front of it in the dead of night, whispering words I couldn't understand. The unease it stirred in me strengthened my resolve. I clenched my teeth and stepped back, avoiding Ethan’s frantic little hands.
“I don’t want to hold him right now.” My voice came out cold, like ice shattering in the air, so cold it scared even me.
Jonathan froze.
Ethan, unable to reach me, cried harder, so hard he nearly choked.
Jonathan’s face twisted with disbelief, bloodshot veins spreading across his eyes like spiderwebs.
His voice shook as he demanded, “What… what did you say? Ethan is your child! Angela, how can you be so heartless?”
The shop erupted at once.
“Angela, are you insane? The child is crying like this, and you won’t even hold him?”
“All this, just for a divorce? You’d even abandon your child? Is your heart made of stone? What sin did your husband commit to end up with a woman like you?”
The boss stamped her foot, her face tight with agitation. “Angela, you’re confused! Whatever the problem is, talk it out. Why let the child suffer like this?”
Jonathan held Ethan tighter, his arms rocking with the boy’s sobs. His gaze locked on me, and the last flicker of light in his eyes dimmed, leaving only the gray hollow of despair.
“You can even turn your back on Ethan…” His laugh came low and brittle, like shards of ice cracking. “Fine. Isn’t divorce what you want? I’ll give it to you.”
He didn’t look at me again. Bowing his head, he patted Ethan’s back, his voice hoarse. “I’ll sign the divorce papers. Tomorrow at noon, come home. I’ll sign them in front of both our families.”
With that, he turned and walked out, still holding the crying Ethan. His back was straight, but it bore the weight of defeat so heavy it nearly bent him.
The shop went silent behind him. All eyes looked at me, full of shock and contempt, as if I had just done something unforgivable.
I offered no explanation. I only bent down and continued stacking the shelves.
...
The next day at noon, as soon as I pushed open the front door, a flurry of voices rushed at me from the living room.
Both my parents and Jonathan's parents were seated on the sofas. My mother’s eyes were swollen and red from crying, while Sandra sighed over and over, her face etched with exhaustion.
In the corner, Jonathan sat with Ethan in his arms.
The shadows under his eyes were darker than they had been the day before. When he looked up and saw me walk in, his gaze was stripped bare of emotion, like he was staring at a stranger.
“Angela, you still have the nerve to come back?” My father was the first to explode, slamming the table so hard the teacup rattled noisily against the wood. “You won’t even care for your own child just to get a divorce. What on earth are you thinking?”
I didn’t respond. My silence was the only shield I had left.
It was Jonathan who finally broke it, his voice flat, stripped of warmth.
“I’ve already drafted the divorce agreement. The assets will remain with me, and Ethan’s custody will also be mine. You can visit him anytime, but you may not take him away.” He pushed the papers across the table toward me. “If you have no objections, sign it.”
Our parents pounced immediately, their voices loud and sharp.
“That’s the way it should be! She’s so heartless to her own child—she’s not fit to be a mother."
"Letting her walk away with nothing is already too kind. If you ask me, she shouldn’t even have the right to see the child again.”
My mother clutched my hand under the table, her voice low and trembling with tears. “Angela, just accept it. You wronged Jonathan, you wronged Ethan. Stop making trouble, please.”
The weight of their stares pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. Slowly, I drew the agreement out from under Jonathan’s hand. But instead of signing, I reached into my purse, pulled out a sealed bag, and set it on the table with a soft thud.
“I do have an objection.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise like a blade, silencing the room in an instant. “The one who should be walking away with nothing isn’t me. It’s Jonathan.”
The entire room froze. Jonathan’s brows knitted together, and for the briefest second, a flicker of shock crossed his eyes.
“You’ve all been so curious, haven’t you?” I let a cold smile curl across my lips as I swept my gaze over the crowd. “Why do I insist on divorcing? Fine. I’ll tell you now. The reason I want a divorce is because of that eel in the tank.”
