My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 10

My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 10

A week later, Thayer returned.

He held a massive bouquet of roses and knelt outside the inn all night.

The snow came down hard, and soon he was covered in white.

Tavish cried and begged for him.

“Mom, if Dad keeps kneeling out there, something will happen to him.”

I took two umbrellas and went downstairs.

Thayer was shaking from the cold, the tip of his nose red.

I looked down at him.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself so I’ll forgive you?”

“N-no.” His voice trembled. “Izzy, I did something wrong. I deserve punishment. I just wanted you to see that I mean it.”

His eyes were red. His lips would not stop shaking.

“Coralie ended the pregnancy. I gave her money, and she and Twyla will stay abroad. They won’t appear in front of us again.”

He leaned forward urgently.

“You were pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me?”

My face stayed blank.

“I was going to tell you that day. Then I found out you were cheating,

—

and there was no point.”

He held on to the last shred of hope.

“Then… our baby…”

I cut him off, cold and hard.

“I ended it.”

The strength went out of Thayer’s spine.

He bent forward as if something inside him had broken.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want my child to have a father who cheats.”

I looked at him quietly.

“Thayer Wescott, I know that if you refuse to let go, this divorce will be difficult.”

“But I really don’t want to be with you anymore.”

The words landed like a blade.

He stared at me as the light in his eyes died, piece by piece.

“Izzy, I regret it. I really do. Don’t leave me, okay?”

Suddenly, I remembered a fight from years ago.

It had been ugly enough that everyone around us knew.

Thayer had knelt in front of me like this too, throwing away all pride, crying as he clutched the edge of my clothes.

—

“Izzy, don’t give up on me.”

Back then, I had softened.

Maybe that was where I had gone wrong.

I handed him the umbrella.

“Thayer, let’s end this with some dignity, okay?”

Three months later, I saw him again at the county courthouse.

Thayer wore a suit. His hair was neatly styled.

Only his eyes were red and swollen.

Tavish followed behind him, crying without stopping.

I wore fresh lipstick and greeted them with polite distance.

“Let’s go. I already checked in.”

Thayer had an old knee injury, and that night in the snow had damaged it badly.

No matter how hard he tried to hide it, he still walked with a slight limp.

We sat with an empty chair between us.

Thayer lowered his head and said nothing.

Tavish reached for my hand and asked carefully, “Mom, can I still see you after this?”

I smiled.

—

“Yes.”

“Can you visit me often?”

“We’ll see.”

“Will you have another kid?”

“I don’t know.”

He kept asking little questions until the clerk called our case.

“The house and cars go to Isolde. I’ll keep primary custody of Tavish. She receives 80% of the marital assets.”

Thayer answered the clerk’s questions in a low voice.

The divorce decree was finalized.

Even when we reached the courthouse entrance, Tavish still clung to me.

“Mom, I’m really sorry.”

I touched his head once, then raised my hand for a cab.

Tavish’s hand hovered in the air, still trying to reach me.

But I had already closed the car door.

In the rearview mirror, Thayer’s gaze followed me without blinking.

As the cab drove farther and farther away, he and Tavish slowly blurred until I could no longer see them clearly.

I looked away.

—

Winter had already passed.

Spring could not be far behind.

—

The cab pulled onto the highway, heading toward the coast.

I opened the window a crack and let the cold air rush in.

Spring was coming. I could feel it in the air—the thaw, the promise of new things.

I thought about Tavish’s face as I drove away. The way his hand had reached for me. The way Thayer had looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

But I had learned something important.

Love wasn’t enough.

Respect was. Trust was. Loyalty was.

And Thayer had given me none of those.

I pulled out my phone and texted my lawyer.

[The divorce is final. Please send me the paperwork. I’ll sign it tomorrow.]

Then I booked a ticket to a small town by the sea.

Somewhere warm. Somewhere new.

Somewhere I could start over.

The cab driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

“Where to, miss?”

I smiled.

“To the ocean.”

He laughed and stepped on the gas.

Behind me, the city grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared.

Ahead, the road stretched wide and open.

And I was finally free.