Eight years of marriage, and it all came down to this. My husband, Leo, brought his old flame—dying of cancer, he claimed—into our home, right over my objections. “You venomous bitch,” he snarled, his face twisted with disgust. “You don’t have an ounce of compassion. You’re not worth a single strand of Luna’s hair!” My own son, Caleb, chimed in, his little face a mirror of his father’s fury. “If you don’t let Auntie Luna in, you’re not my mom anymore!” That was it. My heart, already fractured, shattered completely. I filed for divorce and walked away, accepting an invitation to reclaim my place at the pinnacle of the design world. But then, when they saw the forged cancer diagnosis, their world came crashing down. “Sophie, my love, she tricked me! It’s always been you!” “Mommy, don’t you want your Caleb anymore? I’m your only son!” I didn’t even spare them a glance. Get these stray dogs out of my way. They’re blocking my path to the stage. … “Luna’s condition is getting worse. I’ve decided to bring her here, where I can take care of her.” My gaze fell from Leo’s determined face to the document he’d placed on the dining table, a stark contrast to the steaming, lovingly prepared dishes. It was a cancer diagnosis. This was his eighth wedding anniversary gift to me. Seeing the color drain from my face, Luna sagged against him, her voice a fragile whisper. “Leo, maybe we shouldn’t. It looks like Sophie doesn’t want me here.” She let out a sigh that sounded like a final breath. “Besides, I’m dying anyway. Just let me go.” “Don’t say that, Luna. You’re going to be fine,” Leo soothed, before turning his rage on me. “Sophie, are you even human?! You can’t tolerate a sick woman in your house? You’re so cold-hearted. What kind of example is that for Caleb?” On cue, Caleb began pummeling my leg with his small fists. “You’re mean! If you don’t let the pretty auntie stay, I don’t want you as my mom anymore!” The hot soup on the table grew cold, just like my heart. The two of them, father and son, with their strikingly similar faces, stood united in their righteous condemnation of me. One was the man I had loved for eight years. The other, the child I had raised for seven. Through all of Leo’s countless nights away from home, Caleb had been my last anchor, the one reason I held on. There was a time when he would clutch my hand and call me ‘Mommy’ in the sweetest voice imaginable. Now, for the sake of another woman, he was disowning me. In that instant, disappointment eclipsed all anger. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I turned to go to my room, to escape. But Leo’s voice stopped me. “Sophie. Luna is sick. She needs the master bedroom.” He didn’t even look at me. “Pack your things. You can move into the attic.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, walked into my—no, our—bedroom, and with trembling hands, dialed a number I knew by heart. “Jenna? I’ll take the job. I’m coming back.” The voice on the other end was ecstatic. “Seriously? Sophie, you finally came to your senses! When you gave up your career for that family, the entire design world mourned! I’ll get everything ready for you right now!” I managed a hollow “Okay,” and booked a flight for next month. Jenna was so thrilled she posted about it on her social media feed. And right below her post, I saw one from Leo. His username was ThroughTheCloudsToTheMoon. He once told me it was about finding me, his ray of light. But now, seeing Luna, I finally understood. The ‘moon’ was always her. The post was a picture of him and Caleb at a dessert cafe with Luna that afternoon. The caption read: Sweet treats with my sweet girl. But Leo and Caleb hated sweets. Luna’s dazzling, triumphant smile in the photo was a knife in my eye. It was never about the sweets. It was about who they were sharing them with. And that person was never me. A comment below caught my eye: Leo, my man, aren’t you worried your wife will see this? Leo’s reply was three simple words. She wouldn’t dare. And he was right. I hadn’t dared. I’d believed him when he swore he would love me forever, and I’d thrown away my career without a second thought. I’d been the perfect, supportive wife for eight long years. Now, without my husband and my son, I had nothing. The world spun around me. Just then, Leo walked in and handed me a small cake box. “Here. I remember you used to love strawberry.” The cake was old. The single strawberry on top had already sunk into the collapsing cream. What was this? Luna’s leftovers? My hand shot out, and I threw the entire box into the trash can. Leo’s face darkened with rage. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sophie?!” he gritted out. “Just taking out the trash.” His fury intensified. “I actually remembered it was our anniversary and went out of my way to get you something, and this is how you act? You’re so ungrateful!” “You’re right! I am ungrateful! And from now on, for everything you buy me, I’ll throw one away!” He raised his fist. For a second, I thought he would hit me, but instead, he brought it down with full force on our wedding photo hanging on the wall. The frame shattered, falling to the floor in a cascade of glass and wood as he stormed out. I knelt, silently picking up the pieces. And there, among the wreckage of our life together, I saw it. In the photo, my crying face looked just like hers. About seventy percent, I’d say. I stopped cleaning. I picked up the photograph of us and tore it in half, then again, and again, until it was nothing but confetti in my hands. The next morning, Leo was up at the crack of dawn. For the first time in eight years, he cooked breakfast himself. A whole spread. Luna sat at the table, beaming. “Oh, Leo, you’re too good to me.” “Silly girl, who else would I be good to? I made your favorite shrimp scampi. You’re weak, you need to eat up.” “Yeah, pretty auntie, eat this! It’s yummy!” Caleb chimed in, pushing a piece of shrimp toward her. The three of them were a perfect family portrait. I was the intruder. When I sat down, Leo cleared his throat. “I made shrimp scampi. Have some.” “Yes, you have to try it! Leo’s is the best!” Luna said, placing a generous portion in my bowl. Without a word, I stood up and scraped the contents of my bowl into the trash. Luna’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Sophie… even if you have a problem with me, you shouldn’t waste Leo’s effort like this.” The sight of her tears sent Leo into a protective rage. He slammed his hand on the table. “Sophie, I let it slide last night, but what’s with the death glare this morning? Who are you trying to impress? Can you just stop with the drama?!” “I have an ulcer,” I said, my voice flat. “I can’t eat seafood. Don’t you remember?” Leo froze. When Caleb was a toddler, he was a fussy, difficult child. My eating schedule was a mess from taking care of him around the clock, and over time, I developed a stomach condition. He probably didn’t remember. He’d probably forgotten all the times he’d painstakingly picked every single piece of shrimp off my pizza for me. Luna blinked her big, innocent eyes. “Oh, an ulcer is no big deal. I’d take my stomach pills and eat every last bite of something you cooked just for me, Leo.” Caleb, ever the loyal sidekick, added with a sneer, “Yeah! Pretty auntie isn’t a crybaby like some people!” Leo’s moment of hesitation vanished, replaced by an adoring smile. “Alright, alright, you little troublemaker. I know you appreciate it. But you need to take care of yourself. Your body can’t handle that right now.” I had no desire to watch another scene of their twisted melodrama. I dropped my fork. “Then you’d better eat it all. Don’t leave a single scrap.” Back in my room—the attic—I threw myself back into my work. Eight years away from the design world had left me rusty. But the sounds of laughter and chatter from downstairs made it impossible to concentrate. I heard Luna’s sweet voice ask, “Caleb, what do you think of your mom?” “She’s so annoying! Always nagging me, and she dresses like a hobo. And she never lets me have any snacks!” Luna giggled. “And what about me?” “You take me out to have fun and buy me yummy food! You’re the best.” “So… would you like me to be your godmother?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Caleb’s sweet voice rang out, “Godmommy!” A chill colder than any winter’s night seeped into my bones. Caleb had been born with a weak constitution, requiring more care than a normal child. Leo was always too busy with work to help, so for years, I’d poured my entire life into raising him. And now, in his heart, I was worth less than a stranger who bought him junk food. The pitter-patter of rain against the window pulled me from my thoughts. It was raining. I remembered the flowers I’d left on the balcony. I rushed out to bring them in, but it was too late. They’d been viciously torn apart, the petals scattered and trampled. Before I could even process the loss, I heard a sharp click. The balcony door had been locked from the inside. “Caleb, open the door!” I yelled, pounding on the glass. Through the rain-streaked pane, I saw him beckoning to Luna. “Godmommy, come look at the drowned rat!” Luna just smiled and patted his head. “You little rascal. Come on, I’ll take you out for some snacks.” “Yay!” He completely ignored my cries, skipping off hand-in-hand with Luna. Lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. I curled into a ball in the corner of the balcony, a profound cold settling deep within me, chilling me to the very soul. It wasn’t until the last petal had been washed away that Leo finally let me out. Under the harsh glare of the indoor lights, I must have looked like a ghost. My face was a ghostly white, my hair plastered to my skin. Luna covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my, Sophie! What happened to you?” Caleb hid behind her, pulling faces at me. Leo, after hearing the story, just frowned. “Sophie, you’re a grown woman. How do you get yourself locked on the balcony? Be more careful next time.” I said nothing. I lunged for Caleb. Leo reacted instantly, shoving me back. “What are you doing? Are you going to pick a fight with a child now?” “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know any better! Don’t you?” The push sent me stumbling, and I fell to the floor in a heap. It was utterly humiliating. Caleb burst out laughing. In this twisted trial, I, the victim, had somehow become the sole defendant. I looked at them, at my husband and son, and a laugh bubbled up, bitter and broken. Then another. I pushed myself to my feet and walked toward them, my face a mask of cold fury. They must have thought I was coming to beg for forgiveness. Smirks of cruel amusement played on their lips. CRACK— CRACK— I slapped them both, one after the other. Caleb’s eyes went wide. He clutched his cheek and ran to Luna, wailing. “I hate you! You’re a bad mommy! You’re a wicked witch! No wonder nobody wants you!” Leo was breathless with rage, his chest heaving as he stared at me. Luna, ever the peacemaker, stepped in, grabbing Leo’s arm. “Sophie, Caleb is just a child! How could you, his own mother—” CRACK— “Shut up.” I’d been wanting to do that for a long time. At the third slap, Luna’s eyes rolled back and she collapsed dramatically. The shock of it even made Caleb stop crying. Leo, in a blind panic, scooped her into his arms and rushed for the door. Before leaving, he threw a final threat over his shoulder. “If Luna’s condition gets worse, I’ll make you pay!” He must have been afraid I’d take my anger out on Caleb, because he dragged the boy along with him. Good. Let them all leave. Finally, some quiet.
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