The Daughter He Abandoned Called Him A Stranger Chapter 08

The Daughter He Abandoned Called Him A Stranger Chapter 08

Not long after that conversation, Nathaniel showed up at my design studio on an ordinary workday afternoon. 

He stood in the clean, open loft space, looking strangely out of place among the art–filled surroundings. 

Time had been kind to him. There was only a heavier shadow 

in his expression now, and the proud brilliance of his youth had faded into something quieter. 

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I heard you opened a 

studio. Have you… been well?” 

I did not invite him to sit. 

I only set down the brush in my hand, looked up at him, and 

gave no answer. 

Had I been well? 

Those few words unlocked the darkest part of my memory 

without warning. 

With Claire, I could speak of the past calmly. 

But the truth was, there had been nothing good about the early days after the divorce. 

The memories came back like an old black–and–white film, 

cold and soundless. 

Back then, although the divorce had gone smoothly, the process itself had been unbearably degrading. 

I left with almost nothing and moved into a cramped rented 

apartment with my young daughter. My body was injured, and 

my mind was in worse shape. 

I had sworn I would never see Nathaniel again as long as I 

lived. 

I had also agreed with him that from then on, our daughter 

had nothing to do with him. I would raise her alone. 

But reality was far crueler than any vow. 

Not long after the divorce, Nathaniel married Chloe. 

Their grand society wedding stunned the entire city. 

And I became gossip for people in their circle to pick apart over 

coffee and dinner. 

Abandoned Whitmore wife became the label that followed me 

everywhere. 

Former clients distanced themselves from me. Job hunting led 

nowhere again and again. The reputation I had once built 

became a mark of shame I could not escape. 

The fall was brutal. Fear of the future, humiliation, and the 

love and hatred I refused to admit were still inside me dragged 

me down together. 

I developed severe depression. 

I could not sleep night after night. During the day, I sat in front of my drawing board with my mind completely blank, unable to draw even a single straight line. 

Sometimes, while holding Claire, tears would fall without 

warning, frightening her so much that she would reach up with her little hands and wipe them away clumsily. 

My parents also suffered because of me, enduring judgment 

and cruel whispers from others. 

My mother’s hair seemed to go gray overnight, and my father always sat in silence, smoking one cigarette after another. 

When they looked at me, their eyes were full of pain and worry they could not hide, yet they never dared to ask too much, 

afraid they might push me over the edge. 

Because of me, they had to endure that humiliation and 

pressure when they should have been living peacefully. 

What finally brought me back happened one late night. 

After another breakdown, I walked to Claire’s little bed. 

She was sleeping peacefully, her small hand still tightly clutching a little card I had drawn for her. 

In that moment, guilt and a mother’s instinct hit me all at 

once. 

I could not fall apart. 

Claire still needed me. 

For her sake, I had to get back up and build a life that still had a 

future. 

From that day on, I forced myself to eat, took my medication 

on time, and went to therapy. 

I put aside my so–called pride and started with the most basic, 

smallest design jobs. Stroke by stroke, line by line, I rebuilt my career and my life. 

When the memory passed, I looked at the man standing before 

me, the source of all that pain, and felt perfectly calm. 

“You didn’t come all this way just to ask me that useless question, did you?” I said evenly. 

Embarrassment flashed across Nathaniel’s face. He pressed 

his lips together, then finally told me why he was there. 

“I want… to acknowledge our daughter. I know it may be too 

late to say this now, but with my current position and 

resources, I can give her more.” 

“She’s married now. With me behind her, her in–laws won’t 

dare look down on her. Her life will be easier going forward.” 

“Like the way all of you treated me back then?” I could not 

help laughing softly, cutting him off with undisguised 

sarcasm. 

He fell silent at once, his face draining and then flushing with 

shame. 

I stood and walked to the window, looking down at the endless 

stream of traffic below. My voice was clear and firm. 

“Nathaniel Whitmore, listen carefully.” 

“If Claire married into a family that needs your power to keep 

them from looking down on her, then that marriage isn’t worth keeping. I have enough confidence and ability now to 

support my daughter myself.” 

“She doesn’t need to depend on anyone to live with dignity, and she will always have the freedom to walk away whenever she chooses.” 

After saying that, I sat back down in front of my drawing board 

and picked up my brush, no longer looking at him. 

“See yourself out.” 

For a moment, neither of us moved. 

Then I heard his heavy footsteps as he finally left.