Chapter 2

Before I could speak, her friend glanced at her phone, then urged in French again.

"Daphne, stop dawdling, your dear brother is calling you in the group chat. Don't keep him waiting on such an important day."

Daphne froze, set the soup bowl down, and planted a kiss on my lips, looking a bit troubled.

"Honey, let the nanny clean up these dishes, and you get to bed early, okay?"

"A few friends are inviting me out, please, honey, give me permission."

Seeing her like this, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Sure, go ahead."

"But you better not do anything to betray me."

"If I find out, I’ll leave you without hesitation."

She froze, panic and unease flashing in her eyes.

But with her phone ringing constantly, she eventually chose to pick it up and put on her coat.

Walking out, she still tried to coax me earnestly.

"Honey, don’t worry. I’ll always be yours, in life and death."

"My husband’s place is yours alone."

"Lily, listen to your dad at home, don’t upset him, or I’ll deal with you when I get back!"

Only after that door completely separated us did I come to my senses, letting out a long sigh, my eyes growing warm.

Our daughter glared at me disdainfully again, cursing me with French she thought I didn’t understand.

"Ugly monster, a grown man crying, no wonder Mommy doesn’t like you."

"What a loser."

I laughed self-deprecatingly and wiped away a tear from the corner of my eye.

I know I should let go, but I just can’t.

Seven years of feelings, even cold stones should have warmed by now.

I’m just unwilling for myself.

Our daughter is six years old this year. Since birth, she hasn’t left me for a day. I’ve given all my love to them.

For seven years, I’ve been a husband and a father, but never myself.

But like her mom, she’s forgotten that I taught her French.

For three days straight, Daphne didn’t come home.

But she texted daily, gently reporting her whereabouts, saying her legs had recovered and she was a bit wild.

I quietly watched, silently packing up, planning to leave.

On the seventh day after Daphne hadn’t been home, I found the agreement in the email trash, clicked the link, and carefully signed my name.

I’d taken 99 steps toward them; this last step, I want to walk toward my own life.

I had just bought a ticket for three days later and was about to turn off my phone when I saw our daughter, who hadn’t spoken to me for seven days, glaring at me with a stern face.

I didn’t embrace her like before, just calmly got up and left.

She got angry, storming past me, cursing in the French I taught her.

"Ugly monster, always bothering my mom."

"Who are you scaring with a lousy ticket? If you’re brave, really leave our home."