Love Turned to Ashes and Disappeared

The night before our wedding anniversary, I saw Megan Lombard walk into a hotel with her hand wrapped in her male assistant's hand.

I tried to call her but the one who answered was not her but our thirteen-year-old daughter.

When I asked where her mom was, she answered with an unfriendly and distant tone, "She is at my school to attend a parent-teacher. As an outsider, you must not disturb her."

Before I could say anything else, she hung up the phone and blocked me.

That night the mother and daughter punished me and claimed that I had disrupted family harmony, Megan then used family law to lock me out on the balcony in the middle of a fierce storm. They even demanded that I reflected on my actions all night long.

Finally, I had enough of the blatant disrespectfulness from the two of them.

In the morning, I dragged my sick feverish body to our bedroom, placed the divorce paper in front of Megan and asked for a divorce.

——

Even when she heard the word "divorce", she did not have any reaction. She kept looking down at her nails, busily painting them.

I just stood there waiting for an answer. After an hour, just when I was about to pass out, she finally raised her head and scoffed, "What's the matter? Are you asking for a divorce just because I told you to stand outside in the cold last night? Are you serious?"

"George Thomas, didn't you realize that you had made a mistake last night? Shouldn't you be punished for that?" she asked coldly.

I opened my mouth to refute her claim but, in the end, I just bit my retort and grimaced bitterly, then said, "Sign it."

Without missing a beat, she replied, “Our daughter will stay with me. You don’t have any objections, do you?”

I shook my head, which seemed to surprise her. She raised a perfectly manicured brow but still wanted to maintain the illusion of fairness. She called Selena Lombard, our daughter, into the room and asked her directly, “Who do you want to live with after the divorce, is it your dad or me?”

Selena was truly her mother’s daughter. Not only did they look alike, but the haughty way they looked at me was identical.

"My family’s name is Lombard, not Thomas. Of course, I’ll stay with Mom,” she said without a second thought.

Back then, when Selena was born, Megan asked me if our daughter could take her surname and I didn’t hesitate to agree. I’d been so considerate of her struggles during childbirth.

The old me would’ve been devastated by my beloved daughter’s words. I would stay up all night, heartbroken. However, not anymore, not after what she had done last night.

Any fatherly affection I had for Serena had vanished.

I did not even spare her a glance as I turned and walked into the guest room to pack.

For thirteen years, I had been the backbone of our home. I had to take care of every need for the two women, like cooking, washing and so on, so neither of them would have even to lift a finger. Despite my frugality, it didn’t take me more than ten minutes to pack up my personal belongings.

As I dragged my suitcase out, Megan was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

Without turning her head, she said, “Where are you going? I’ll have the driver take you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I replied while fighting off the dizziness from my fever as I made my way to the door.

Just then, a dodgeball came flying from the second floor and slammed into the back of my head.

The second floor was where Selena's room was situated. She often practiced dodgeball after finishing her homework.

As I clutched my head and collapsed to the floor in pain, Megan and Selene exchanged a glance as if they were saying, “There he goes, he is pretending again.”

They left me lying there, writhing in pain.

After over half an hour I was able to crawl out of the Holland Mansion. With my body covered with sweat, I finally managed to get to the hospital to get treatment.

As soon as I got better and my fever broke, I found myself in a daze on a bus heading to the outskirts of town and two hours later, I arrived at my grandfather’s house.

He didn’t ask any questions when I showed up at his door. Overjoyed by my visit, he busied himself stoking the fire and steaming a large pot of taro rice.

Selena used to love taro rice, just like me. When she was little, she’d eat so much of it that she’d beg me to carry her around afterward.

That was until she turned six or seven and one of the Holland Family’s kids told her that taro was "peasant food."

From that day on, Selena refused to let me bring any of my grandfather’s homegrown taro back to our house.

As I scarfed down the meal too quickly, I had to thump my chest to stop myself from choking, all while my grandfather’s face wrinkled with a wide smile.

That night, for the first time in years, I slept peacefully, without any nightmares.

I knew I had finally returned home.

Two days later, I received a call from Megan.

Her voice was as cold and haughty as ever, “Where did you put the custom dress, I bought abroad last year?”

Out of instinct, I told her exactly where it was and even suggested pairing it with the necklace, I had stored in the far left of the compartment.

From her end of the line, I could hear the faint rustling of her getting dressed.