My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 02

My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 02

I had three different real estate agents come out to appraise the house.

The highest offer came in at $6.8 million.

“Mrs. Beckett, this home is pretty well-known in designer circles,” the realator said, flipping through his papers.

“I heard your husband drew up every blueprint himself—every last detail.”

I didn’t respond. I just told him to get it on the market as soon as he could.

After he left, I sat alone in Grace’s bedroom.

The walls were covered with her drawings.

One picture showed a house with three people standing beside it.

A tall daddy. A mommy with a ponytail. And a tiny little girl right in the middle.

Above it, scrawled in wobbly, childish letters, were the words, My Home.

Nathaniel had taught her how to draw it.

I still remembered that night.

Grace had been lying across the coffee table, carefully coloring with her crayons.

Nathaniel had crouched beside her, guiding her tiny hand as they drew the roof together.

“Let’s put a window right here, Gracie,” he’d murmured.

“Someday, I’m gonna build you a castle with windows everywhere.”

“And from every single one, you’ll be able to see the stars.”

Grace had looked up, her eyes lit up like sparklers. “Really? You promise?”

“I promise.”

That night, I’d been slicing fruit in the kitchen.

Through the glass door, I caught a glimpse of the two of them—their silhouettes in the living room.

He lifted her high above his head.

She giggled nonstop, her laughter rolling from the living room all the way to the balcony.

That was the last time I truly believed he loved this family.

—

Grace’s kindergarten graduation ceremony was scheduled for Friday.

She had spent three months rehearsing as the lead dancer.

Every night before bed, she’d mark another X on the calendar.

“Mommy, Daddy promised he’ll come watch me dance.”

She tilted her face up at me, her eyes curved into happy crescents.

“My teacher said every student gets a flower after the performance. I’m going to give mine to Daddy myself.”

I said nothing. All I did was smooth out the hem of her dress. Over and over.

The night before graduation, Nathaniel came home. Out of nowhere.

“I need the ticket. For Grace’s graduation tomorrow.”

I was ironing Grace’s recital dress. My hand stopped mid-motion.

“You’re actually going?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, not even looking up as he changed his shoes.

“Mason has a father-child event there tomorrow.”

“He doesn’t have a father. Kids at school bully him for it. He’s been diagnosed with depression.”

“Claire’s my mentor’s daughter. I have a responsibility to them.”

“And?”

“So Grace’s dance can wait. Mason doesn’t have a father, and people will always look down on him for it.”

He just held out his hand. “The ticket.”

I stood in front of Grace’s bedroom door without moving.

“Nathaniel, this is Grace’s first graduation ceremony.”

“I know.” His eyes went cold. “Which is exactly why I didn’t say I wasn’t coming.”

“I’ll go to Mason’s thing first, then I’ll make it to Grace’s afterward.”

“The school only issued one parent admission ticket.”

“Then you can stay home.” He shoved me out of the way.

I stumbled backward and slammed into the doorframe, a sharp jolt of pain shooting up my spine.

Nathaniel walked over to the table, grabbed the admission ticket, and headed for the door.

“Sylvie, can you just stop being so dramatic?”

“It’s one lousy graduation. What is there even to fight about?”

—

On the day of the ceremony, I held Grace’s hand as we arrived at Sunnyside Early Learning Academy.

Other kids were perched up on their daddies’ shoulders, laughing and chattering away as they headed inside.

Grace kept searching the crowd. Once. Then again. And again.

Finally, she lowered her head and tightened her grip on my hand.

“Come on, Mommy. Let’s go in.”

I bought two bouquets of flowers.

Then I stood outside the auditorium, watching her performance through the glass windows.

She danced beautifully through the entire routine.

When the show was over, the kids all came running toward their parents, the room filling up with flowers and laughter and squeals of joy.

Grace just stood there, at the edge of it all, watching other daddies lift their little girls up and smother them in kisses.

Then she lowered her head.

Slowly, she tore the card in her hands in half. Then she tore it into quarters.

The scraps drifted to the floor. And she stepped on them hard.

I rushed over and wrapped my arms around her.

She didn’t make a sound.

—

Once we were back in the car, I turned the key.

My phone lit up. A message from Nathaniel. A photo.

He was holding Mason high in the air, both of them beaming. The father-child event was going on behind them.

[I’ll make it up to Grace tonight.]

I stared at those words for a moment.

And then, without a sound, the tears just started falling.