Five Years Married, He Denied Our Daughter Registration for Coworker's GirlChapter 3

He gave a short sneer and didn't even glance at the paper on the table.

"Are you done throwing your little tantrum?" He grabbed his clothes and walked to the door. "First you teach the kid those little seduction tricks, and now you're trying to play hard to get with me."

I held the edge of the paper and said nothing.

His voice climbed. "You want a divorce? Fine. Take that little bastard of yours and get out."

"Like anyone's begging you to stay. You should ask yourself who was the one dying to get that household registration in the first place."

Every word landed like a slap across my face.

It pulled me clean out of the dream I'd been sinking into, the one about the past.

Five years ago, on this same bed, he'd panted against my ear and said,

"Let's stop using anything, okay? If it happens, we'll keep it. I'll marry you."

His palm had pressed against the small of my back, as if afraid I'd pull away.

"Our child would be the most precious thing I have."

And now he was saying "little bastard."

He finished cursing and stood there breathing hard for a couple of seconds, as if waiting for me to fire back.

I didn't move.

Instead he laughed, bent down and picked up the pen, pulled off the cap, and slapped it down on the divorce agreement.

"Fine, you want the divorce? I'll sign."

He crossed his arms and stepped back, one corner of his mouth curled like he was watching a show, certain I'd throw myself at the paper any second to snatch it away.

I walked over, picked up the pen, and signed my name too.

The smile on his face froze for half a second.

Then it loosened again just as fast. He turned his head away and swiped at his phone, his voice a little lower than before. "Going to commit to the whole act, are you? Fine. Let's see how long you last."

Outside the window, a low roll of thunder passed.

His phone lit up. Violet's message popped up, just one line. "Daisy's crying again. She keeps calling for you."

He finished reading it and looked at me again.

I sat on the edge of the bed and tucked my daughter's blanket up a little higher.

He waited ten seconds.

Twenty.

I didn't look up.

He snatched up his coat and headed for the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The wind swept in, and the agreement fluttered slightly where it lay.

I put it away in the drawer and turned off the light.

My daughter stood in the corner, not daring to speak. I gently pulled her onto my lap.

"Be good, sweetheart. Will you let Mommy stay with you while you sleep?"