Chapter 8
Seeing my firm stance.
Frank snapped, “Fine, don’t come crying to me later.”
He scrawled his signature violently across the agreement. “Catherine, even if you beg. I won’t change my mind.”
With that, the document was flung onto the floor.
Ten years knowing each other.
Seven years married.
All ended today.
But they haven’t paid for what they did to Amy.
After Frank left, Amy emerged from her room and hugged me.
Burying her face in chest.
my
“Mommy, Amy wants to be with
you
forever.”
She whispered, “Please don’t be sad.”
My composure crumbled. Eyes stung, I fought back tears but failed.
Holding Amy close, I choked out:
“Okay, you’re such a brave girl.”
Post–divorce, Frank drifted through days like a ghost.
An emptiness gnawed at him, as if something vital had been ripped away.
Amanda wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, murmuring:
“Frank, let’s get our marriage license soon.”
Her voice used to soothe him.
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Chapter 8
Now it grated.
He peeled her hands ofl. “Not now.”
“I need time.”
Amanda’s eyes instantly welled up.
“What’s left to consider?”
“Tommy keeps asking when he can call you Daddy.”
“You’re finally free–we should make this official.”
Mentioning Tommy deepened Frank’s irritation.
He brushed her off again:
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“People will talk if I remarry right after divorcing.”
Amanda’s smile faltered.
Tears trailed down her cheeks.
He’d have pulled her into an embrace before.
Now her crying only reminded him of Catherine’s despair.
How utterly alone she’d been.
Frank’s throat tightened.
He turned to leave, but Amanda clutched his hand. “Frank, don’t you want to be Tommy’s father?”
“What are we then?”
“We waited years for your divorce, and now-”
Her words died in her throat.
Frank’s icy glare shocked her–a look she’d never seen.
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Chapter 8
She released him, head bowed.
He strode out without glancing back, driving straight to the home he’d shared with Catherme
Everything stood unchanged, yet lifeless.
Each step deepened the ache. Had their home always felt this hollow without her?
His daughter’s rag doll lay on the sofa. For a heartbeat, he heard her bright voice:
“Daddy, isn’t my baby pretty?”
“Don’t you think she’s beautiful?”
Frank’s vision blurred. He stumbled toward the bedroom.
The closet door hung open–only his clothes remained inside.
That shattered him.
He slapped himself across the face.
Again.
Again.
Mouthing the words:
“I’m sorry, Catherine.”
Later, he parked outside her apartment but couldn’t bring himself to approach.
Standing in the shadows, thinking of all the things he’d done to Catherine and Amy, he wished he could vanish.
Watching the figures playing around upstairs, Frank deeply regretted his decision.
He still couldn’t help but go upstairs and knock on the door.
When I opened the door and saw him, my smile faded as I stared coldly:
“What are you doing here?”
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Chapter 9
Chapter 9
