When Time Stopped, Love Was Lost

My husband, Daniel Carter, was obsessive about time. He had to wake up at exactly 7:05, and breakfast had to begin at 7:15 sharp.

Even sex was limited to exactly thirty minutes. The second time was up, he pulled away and left.

That day, our daughter had a dangerously high fever, yet he still refused to leave.

Every second dragged by. I kept urging Daniel to hurry.

But he only ate his breakfast at his usual unhurried pace.

"My breakfast has to last a full ten minutes. Besides, children build stronger immune systems when they tough it out a little."

I touched my daughter's forehead, which was growing hotter by the minute, and urged him to give me the car keys so I could take her myself.

Daniel did not even look up. He slowly adjusted his tie and said, "Then I won't make it to the office by 7:50. Wait five more minutes. That's when I'm supposed to leave."

Just then, his phone rang. It was his assistant, Emily Morgan.

"Mr. Carter, I twisted my ankle. Could you come pick me up?"

His expression changed at once. He grabbed the car keys and rushed toward the door.

"I have something urgent to deal with. Call a cab yourselves."

The next day, he called and asked why we had not gone home yet.

I held my daughter's ashes in my arms, numb with grief.

"Our daughter can't go home anymore."

And neither could we.

......

Daniel's voice over the phone was sharp with displeasure.

"Grace Miller, what is that supposed to mean? Even if you're angry with me, you don't get to curse our child."

I clutched the cold urn, my fingertips turning ashen.

My throat hurt as if something had lodged inside it. I could not force out a single word.

The call ended with a flat series of beeps.

I dragged my legs downstairs. Fallen sycamore leaves covered the ground.

The key turned. With a soft click, the door opened.

The crystal chandelier in the living room was painfully bright.

Daniel sat squarely in the center of the sofa, with Emily beside him. Their heads were close together.

There was a smile on Daniel's lips, a tenderness I had not seen from him in half a year.

The moment he saw me walk in, that smile vanished. His brows drew together.

His gaze swept over the empty space behind me, and his face darkened.

"Where's Chloe?"

Then he seemed to think of something, and his expression eased a little.

"You sent her to her grandmother's again, didn't you? That's fine. My mother said a couple of days ago that she missed her anyway."

Daniel came over and reached for my hand. It was his way of backing down.

I stepped back and avoided him.

Emily stood up, guilt written across her face.

"Grace, this was all my fault. If I hadn't been so careless, Chloe's treatment wouldn't have been delayed. Please don't be angry with Mr. Carter. He works so hard, and since you're a full-time mother at home, you should be more understanding. Be the bigger person."

The words "bigger person" drove into my chest like an icicle.

My eyes burned red as the memory of yesterday came flooding back.

The moment Daniel learned that Emily had twisted her ankle, he forgot all about the departure time he normally guarded like sacred law. He left me and our daughter behind and sped away.

I was sweating with panic, but the ride-hailing app kept showing that I was still in line.

I held my burning-hot daughter in my arms. She forced out a smile and, impossibly, tried to comfort me.

"Mommy, it doesn't hurt. Tears, tears, fly away..."

I kept kneeling by the roadside, begging anyone kind enough to take us to the hospital.

At last, a young woman stopped her car.

But morning rush hour had locked the roads solid. Traffic barely moved an inch.

Chloe's breathing grew weaker and weaker.

After she whispered "Mommy" in my arms, she never made another sound.

By the time we finally reached the hospital, the doctors tried to save her, but in the end, they could only shake their heads with regret.

"Febrile seizure. We couldn't revive her."

I tugged the corners of my mouth into a smile. My laughter tasted like blood.

"No one is as generous as you, Daniel. Your own daughter's life mattered less than a tiny sprain on your assistant's ankle."

Daniel shoved me away, his face livid.

"Grace, what the hell are you talking about? Chloe was an accident. Stop dragging Emily into everything!"

I understood then that arguing was meaningless. The last ember in my heart went out.

"Let's get divorced."

The three words left my mouth so lightly, yet they struck the living room like a clap of thunder, leaving it dead silent.

Daniel froze for a moment. Then he let out a scornful laugh.

"Divorce? What tantrum are you throwing now? You've been stuck at home so long that it's clearly rotted your brain."

Emily tried to smooth things over.

"Mr. Carter, Grace is just angry right now. Please don't fight. Maybe I should leave now."

"No." Daniel stopped her and looked at me coldly.

"You want to make a scene? Fine. The guest room upstairs is empty. You can stay there from now on. Emily and I will be discussing work in the master bedroom all night. Don't disturb us."

After that, he stopped looking at me, as if I were invisible.

I turned and went upstairs, pulled out my suitcase, and began packing.

I did not own much.

After five years of marriage, everything I actually used fit into a single twenty-inch suitcase.

While clearing out the nightstand, my hand brushed against Chloe's sketchbook.

On the cover, she had drawn our family of three. Beneath it, she had written, "Daddy and Mommy will love Chloe forever."

I could not stop my tears from falling. They blurred the crayon colors.

When we first started the company, we had squeezed into a tiny rented apartment.

Back then, he had been just as obsessive about time, but he would break his rules for me.

He would leave work half an hour early and go several blocks out of his way just to buy my favorite cinnamon rolls.

He would postpone an entire day of meetings just to spend a holiday with Chloe.

Everything changed the day Emily arrived.

She memorized every one of his timing habits.

At exactly 8:05, she would place warm water on his office desk.

She always reminded him of meetings five minutes in advance, and she always refilled his coffee thirty seconds before he finished it.

His tenderness no longer belonged to Chloe and me.

I placed the sketchbook into my suitcase.

In the second half of the night, the bedroom door opened. Daniel walked in, carrying the scent of cedarwood cologne.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice low and gentle.

"I'm sorry, Grace. I was wrong today. There's nothing between Emily and me."

Hearing that tenderness again after so long, I fell into a brief daze, as if I had been pulled back to the days when we were newly married and madly in love.

"Stop making a fuss, okay? Tomorrow at 7:30, I'll go pick Chloe up. We'll live properly from now on."

At the sound of Chloe's name, my whole body stiffened, and I snapped back to myself.

I pried his hands away and looked at him without expression.

"Chloe can't come back. She's dead. And we can't go back either. I've drafted the divorce agreement. Sign it, and we're done."

Daniel's face turned deathly pale. He stared at me in disbelief.

"Grace, are you insane? You're still cursing our child!"

Looking at his stubborn refusal to accept the truth, I felt only exhaustion. I did not want to argue anymore, so I pointed at the door.

"Get out."

He slammed the door and left.

Not long after, laughter and conversation drifted from the room next door. His and Emily's voices were deliberately loud.

I leaned against the headboard and did not sleep all night.