My daughter's old illness relapsed, and she collapsed at home.
I tried calling my husband, Quentin Linwood, but his phone wouldn’t connect. Then I saw a photo posted on his ex-wife Vicky Jordan’s social media feed.
In the picture, Quentin was in a hospital room, carefully caring for their daughter.
The caption read:
[My ex-husband is still the best. Zoey just had a mild cold, and he flew 1,800 kilometers to care for her.]
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me.
Right away, I asked my lawyer to draft the divorce papers.
When Quentin finally got home and saw the agreement, he erased his ex-wife's contact info right in front of me.
Then he asked coldly, "So, still want the divorce?"
I didn't even bother to lift my eyes.
"Yes," I said.
Jasmine's POV
Later that night, he came to me with red eyes, his voice hoarse in the dark.
"Jasmine, from now on, I'll answer your calls within seconds, any time, 24 hours a day. I'll only ever acknowledge Ella as my daughter. I—”
I cut him off. "There's no need. Her father is already doing all of that."
I was already watching the man a few steps away, the one holding the claw machine controls as he helped my daughter win a stuffed toy.
——
Quentin had come back the very night I filed for divorce.
The moment he walked through the door, he exploded.
"You brought up divorce, and now Vicky thinks it's her fault our marriage is falling apart. She's not eating, not sleeping, and Zoey's health is getting worse because of all this! You've seriously crossed the line this time. You're coming with me, and you're going to apologize to both of them. And you better sit your ass down and write a ten-thousand-word letter explaining what the hell you were thinking—plus a promise that you'll never, ever joke about divorce again."
I slipped the final medical report for our daughter into my bag and looked up at him with a calm, detached gaze.
"I wasn't joking."
"Jasmine!" His voice sharpened. "Don't test my limits! You're mad just because I went to see Vicky without telling you? I was trying to avoid exactly this kind of overreaction."
He looked at me like he already knew how I'd respond, his tone laced with irritation, superiority.
Just then, the hospital called.
"Is this the mother of Ella Linwood? Your daughter's condition just took a sudden turn for the worse. Please come in immediately."
Quentin froze and asked, "What happened to Ella?"
I almost laughed.
Zoey was over 1,800 kilometers away, and a sneeze from her could get a full response from him.
But his own daughter, right under his nose, relapsed, and he hadn't noticed a thing.
I didn't bother replying. I turned to leave.
But Quentin grabbed my arm from behind, his eyes dark and flaring with something unpleasant.
"Jasmine, do you really think I can't see through this act? You're just using our daughter to push me into cutting ties with Vicky and Zoey. I just had Ella checked last month, and every health metric came back normal. If you keep this up, this family will fall apart."
I looked at the man who used to make me the center of his world. He seemed like a stranger now.
This is how I appeared in his eyes, standing beside his ex-wife.
I looked pitiful.
Something cracked open in my chest.
I shook off his hand, yanking my arm from his hold. "The divorce agreement is on the coffee table. I've already signed it. Don't forget to sign."
Quickly, Quentin stiffened. The second his eyes landed on the papers on the table, his expression turned cold.
Without saying a word, he took out his phone and immediately deleted all contacts linked to Vicky—blocked, erased, and wiped clean right in front of me.
"There. Happy now? Still want the divorce?"
He spoke as if that gesture was meant to fix everything, like deleting a few names could erase all the cracks.
I took a slow breath, and only one word escaped my lips. "Childish."
That was all it took.
Quentin exploded. "Jasmine, can't you just let it go already? I've cut her out of my life for us, for this family. What else do you want?!"
I wanted out.
I didn't want to see him again.
But before I could say it, Quentin's phone started to ring.
