Chapter 2

The moment Walter rushed toward Nancy, I saw the expression on her face clearly.

No surprise, no embarrassment, just a smile of natural tenderness.

She crouched down and caught Walter smoothly, as if she'd heard this title from him countless times before.

"Baby, did you miss me?" Nancy asked softly.

I stood there, my fingers slowly clenching.

This woman who called me "sister" was now accepting my son calling her "mommy" without any guilt.

"Mom, since you're getting divorced from Dad anyway, why let Nancy be my mom instead?" Walter said excitedly, grabbing Nancy's hand. "Nancy is so nice to me! Last time she took me to Disneyland, I got to go on all the rides I wanted, and she bought me a bunch of toys! She even took me to that place I've been begging to try—the fried chicken and fries there were amazing!"

As he spoke, he deliberately turned to look at me, his eyes full of naked mockery.

"Unlike some people," Walter said with a pout. "All they do is make me eat vegetables and won't let me have fries. Always going on about junk food being unhealthy—no fun at all. Every day it's just homework, homework, homework, and I can only play when I'm done. Not cool at all! And Nancy's voice is way nicer than yours. Dad's probably allergic to your voice because it sounds so bad!"

I watched my son deliberately put on this pitiful act, knowing full well that this six-year-old child was intentionally using these hurtful words to wound me.

He wanted to see me regret it, wanted to see me break down crying and begging him.

"That's right, sis," Nancy sighed, looking at me with reproach in her eyes. "Kids just want to play—that's their nature. You're too strict with him. Walter is still so young. What kid doesn't love snacks?"

Her tone was gentle and caring, but every word was an accusation that I wasn't a good mother.

Nancy patted Walter's head and said with a smile, "Besides, if you're this strict now, when you get old, Walter might not take care of you, you know."

The words came out light and breezy, but they cut deep.

So all my concern for my son's health, all my help with his studies—these were just reasons for him to resent me.

Yes, my voice wasn't as pleasant as Nancy's.

But if it weren't for all these years of silence...

I had once almost become a singer!

Andrew stood to the side, smiling as he watched his son and Nancy accuse me.

Looking at this harmonious picture of a family of three, I suddenly laughed.

"Fine," I nodded, my voice eerily calm. "Then you take care of him."

Nancy's smile froze.

I continued, "Nancy, you can start learning how to be a mom now. After all, if you're going to take care of Walter in the future, you should be prepared. Otherwise, how will you know what to do?"

The air froze.

Walter's eyes widened—he hadn't expected me to say this.

Nancy's face turned pale, then flushed. Her lips moved but no sound came out.

Andrew's head snapped up, his eyes fixed on me with a complicated expression.

"Let's cut the cake," Andrew suddenly said, his voice low. "Our son should make a wish!"

His tone was casual, as if the conflict moments ago had never happened.

He'd always been like this—anything he didn't want to hear, he'd just tune it out.

When I asked him to bring me some dessert, he could forget.

When I asked him to deliver some documents for me, he could say he didn't see the message.

But when it came to Nancy...

If Nancy so much as mentioned craving mango mille crepe, he’d drive an hour across town to that trendy bakery on the west side just to get it for her.

Two years ago, he remembered Nancy liked champagne-colored roses and pre-ordered 99 of them three days in advance.

But my birthday? He could never remember it.

At the table, the three of them laughed and chatted as they started cutting the cake.

My son loudly wished for Nancy to stay healthy and for Dad's career to flourish.

Walter fed Nancy cake, and Nancy's eyes curved into crescents as she smiled.

Andrew watched them, his gaze incredibly tender.

"Andrew, I want some water," Nancy suddenly said.

Andrew immediately turned to look at me. "Go get some water."

His tone was matter-of-fact, as if I were a servant in this house.

I didn't move, just stood there watching this absurd scene.

Three people enjoying themselves, and I was the extra one.

I suddenly felt it was all so pointless.

This farce needed to end.

"Andrew," I spoke up, my voice clear. "Didn't you say hearing my voice made you uncomfortable and sick?"

"How come now you're just blocking out my voice?" I smiled slightly. "Looks like you're not just allergic to my voice—now you've developed selective hearing loss too."

"So let me say it one more time," I said, word by word, staring into his eyes. "I want a divorce."