Don't be a crybaby Chapter 1

The day our daughter Mia turned five, my husband’s mistress, Amber, posted a photo on Instagram. It was a selfie of the two of them, tucked into bed, a little boy asleep between them.

Her caption read: **【Little guy was fussy and wanted his daddy before bed, and this super-dad dropped everything to rush over. ❤️】**

The man in the picture, the “super-dad,” was my husband, Julian.

I glanced at the text he’d sent me just ten minutes earlier:

**【Something came up at the office. Don’t wait up for me and Mia.】**

I liked her post. Then I called my divorce lawyer.

* * *

Julian didn’t get home until two in the morning.

The harsh glare of the headlights cut through the bedroom window, and I instinctively shielded Mia’s eyes.

He leaned against the doorframe, his voice a low rumble.

“Hey, I’m home. Wake Mia up, I’ll celebrate her birthday with her now.”

I used to be obsessed with these family rituals. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, even kindergarten events—I’d always insist Julian be there. I didn’t want Mia to grow up like I did, seeing her father mostly through a phone screen.

But now…

I straightened the comforter, my voice flat. “Don’t bother.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Julian’s face. “Chloe, I was just putting Leo to sleep. Don’t get the wrong idea.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is why I can’t be honest with you. You’re always so suspicious.”

I wasn’t getting the wrong idea. And I wouldn’t be suspicious anymore.

“If that’s all, you should go to your own room. Don’t wake Mia. She has school tomorrow.”

He let out a cold laugh. “Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me later, saying I’m missing out on Mia’s childhood.”

I turned and switched off the lamp, gently patting the back of my daughter, who had started to stir.

Missing out? I didn't care anymore. After all, Mia’s birthday wish this year was: “I don’t want to see Daddy anymore.”

The next morning, after breakfast, Julian didn’t leave for work right away like he usually did. He sat on the couch, watching the morning news. Just as I was getting Mia’s backpack ready, he stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked over, ruffling her hair.

“Daddy’s taking you to school today.”

He said it to Mia, but his eyes were locked on me.

Two years ago, when Mia first started kindergarten, Julian drove her every single day. But after Amber showed up, he started leaving earlier and earlier, claiming his morning meetings at the office had been moved up.

I’d believed him. Until three months ago, when Mia switched schools. I was waiting at the gate and saw him. The man who was supposed to be in a board meeting was leaning over, unbuckling a little boy from the back seat of his car.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have time to take his daughter to school. He just had someone more important to take.

We had a massive fight that night. The next day, Mia stopped asking for him to take her.

Even though I’d already decided on the divorce, he was still her father. I thought for a moment and didn’t say no. A small, triumphant smile touched the corner of his lips as he scooped Mia into his arms.

But when he opened the car door, I froze.

The back seat was cluttered with stuff. A Spider-Man water bottle, a wooden toy bow-and-arrow set, a woman’s cashmere scarf draped over the headrest…

And tucked into the back of the passenger seat was a small, framed “family photo.”

Julian saw where I was looking. His expression tightened. “Amber just stuck that there. She said it makes Leo happy,” he said defensively. “Don’t start a fight over something so small.”

The old me would have shattered the frame, would have screamed and cried, demanding to know what Mia and I meant to him.

But now, I just nodded. “It’s a nice picture.”

He stared at me, a strange look in his eyes. “You’re not mad?”

Mad? Maybe I should have been. But I felt nothing. A complete, hollow calm. In fact, it was almost funny. Did Julian, always so sharp and perceptive in business, really not see through such a clumsy, transparent power play?

Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“We should get going,” I said softly. “Mia’s going to be late.”

His lips thinned into a hard line as he got into the driver’s seat.

Just as I was about to buckle Mia in, his phone rang. The ringtone was a child’s voice, custom-recorded.

*“Daddy, Daddy, it’s a call for you! It’s for my best Daddy!”*

A little boy’s frantic sobs came through the speaker. “Daddy! Daddy, where did you go? Are you leaving me and Mommy?”

Julian ended the call without even a glance in our direction and started the car. “Leo’s having a meltdown. I’ll have the driver take you guys today.”

The black Maybach sped away, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust. I worried about Mia and knelt down to face her.

“Honey, Daddy had an emergency. Next time he’s free, we’ll all go to school together, okay?”

Mia looked at me, her small face etched with an unnerving maturity. “Daddy’s never going to be free, Mom. His time belongs to Leo and his mom now.”