Strangers Under the Same Roof

My husband, Daniel Thompson, looked down on me. I was just a farmer's daughter in his eyes, and he never loved the son I gave birth to.

It wasn’t until our baby turned 100 days old that he held him for the first time.

Then, one day, his first love, Claire Matthews, came back to the city.

That night at dinner, Daniel, who was always cold and distant, finally smiled. He even reached across the table and placed a piece of meat on Noah’s plate.

Noah beamed all evening, clutching onto that tiny gesture like it was a treasure. Just before bed, he whispered to me, "Mom, do you think he likes me now… even just a little?"

I wrapped him in my arms, tears blurring my vision as I gently shook my head.

"No, sweetheart. It’s because the woman he truly loves is back. It’s time for us to go."

After coaxing my son, Noah Thompson, to sleep, I took out the marriage certificate I had with Daniel Thompson, planning to file for divorce.

This year marked our eighth year of marriage, and our sixth year living apart. The long stretch of time had worn away all the love I once had for him.

Now, I could finally let him go.

"Mom?"

Eight-year-old Noah had woken up at some point. He walked over to me barefoot, his eyes filled with reluctance.

"Are we really leaving? Today, Dad—Uncle Daniel—held me. He even gave me food. He must like me a little now, right?"

I was stunned for a moment at his slip of the tongue.

Daniel had taken advantage of me while drunk and had been forced to marry me. Unfortunately, he hated me, and by extension, hated the son I gave birth to.

From the day our son first learned to speak and called him "Dad", Daniel had shouted at him, forbidding him from ever calling him that again.

At three years old, the boy had no memory and instinctively called out "Dad", only to be cruelly slapped across the mouth ten times by Daniel. His tender lips had swelled up, and blood trickled as he wailed in pain.

From that day on, he buried the word "Dad" deep in his heart and never said it again.

Snapping back to reality, I held Noah tightly, my eyes brimming with tears.

"Noah, Uncle Daniel’s true love is back. We have to leave."

In my heart, I added silently, 'Otherwise, the hurt will only get worse.'

Noah’s eyes shimmered with tears. He murmured, "Uncle Daniel said I was a good boy just a few days ago. He held me today and gave me food. He’s clearly starting to like me! Can’t we stay?"

The look on his face was filled with hope. He truly believed Daniel was starting to care for him. He was striving to be better in hopes that Daniel would one day fully accept him.

I looked at my son, his face full of longing for a father’s love.

My throat tightened, and I couldn’t say a word.

What could I tell him?

That from the moment he was born, his father had rejected him?

That the reason Daniel seemed happy enough to hold him and give him food today was just because the woman he truly loved, Claire Matthews, was coming back, and he was simply in a good mood?

I couldn’t say those things. I couldn’t tear apart the fragile surface of our lives and lay bare the cruelty of reality in front of my child.

He was only eight. How could he bear such a harsh truth?

I would rather take him away and let time slowly wash away the pain. I believed that that was the best thing I could do for him as his mother.

"It’s because Mommy doesn’t love Uncle Daniel anymore. Will you come with me, Noah?"

Tears finally fell from Noah’s eyes. He choked out, "We really can’t stay? I haven’t earned Uncle Daniel’s approval yet…"

My heart ached. I gently said, "But he doesn’t like you. You’ve known that for a long time, haven’t you?"

Noah’s tears came faster. He cried soundlessly, breaking my heart.

After a long time, he finally whispered hoarsely, "Mom, can we give Uncle Daniel three more chances? I still want to try."