After My Daughter Died, I Never Forgave My Ex-husband

It took me more than ten agonizing days to arrange my daughter’s burial. Those days felt like an eternity—every moment a reminder of the life I’d lost and the pain that wouldn’t subside. During that time, Adam never returned home, not even a call. It was as if he had vanished from my life completely. I had already given up on him, so I didn’t bother reaching out. I knew I had to move forward, even if that meant doing it alone.

On the day he finally returned, I was in my daughter’s room, packing away her belongings—her favorite toys, her tiny clothes, the little memories of a life cut too short. The house was eerily quiet, filled with the ghosts of what could have been.

Adam walked in and slumped onto the sofa, looking exhausted as he rubbed his temples. “I’m hungry,” he said, his voice flat and indifferent. “Make me a bowl of noodles.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I quietly pulled out the divorce agreement I had prepared days ago. I placed it on the coffee table in front of him, the papers crisp and stark against the dark wood. “I’ve already signed it,” I said, my voice steady. “Take a look. If there’s nothing you disagree with, just sign it.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon. “There’s still time. Sign it and we can go to the Civil Affairs Bureau to finalize the divorce today.”

Adam’s hand froze as he reached for the papers. He looked up at me, his brow furrowed in confusion and irritation. “Rachel, what are you making a fuss about?”

Making a fuss? His words hit me like a slap in the face.

Adam and I had been inseparable since kindergarten, sitting together as deskmates through elementary school, middle school and even high school. We’d been admitted to the same university and everyone around us assumed we would end up together. I thought so too. For years, I tried to break through the invisible barrier between us, but Adam never responded. I was ready to move on, to let go, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept me close, never truly accepting me but never letting me go either.

In college, when he started dating Kate, I thought that was the end of whatever it was between us. But he would come running back to me every time they fought, seeking comfort and healing. And each time, I foolishly let him. When Kate went abroad after graduation without a word, Adam turned to me once again. I was his safe haven, the one who patched him up when he was broken. We finally got together during that year of ‘healing’ for him and for a brief moment, I thought we could be happy.

Looking back, I realize now that I had loved him for as long as I could remember—for 32 years, to be exact. And in those 32 years, I had given him everything, only to be left with nothing.

Adam, seeing that I hadn’t spoken for a long time, suddenly sneered. “Okay, Rachel, I get it. I know I’ve been busy lately and haven’t paid much attention to you. I’ll make it up to you, so stop making a scene.”

He pointed at the divorce papers with his long, slender fingers. “I’ll pretend I never saw these.”

I felt a surge of anger rise within me, but I kept my voice calm. “Adam, listen carefully—I want a divorce.”

No matter how deep my feelings for him had been, they had died along with my daughter. There was nothing left to salvage.

His expression darkened, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’ve gone too far! I’ve only been away for a little over ten days and you’re blowing this out of proportion. And what about Tania? If we get divorced, do you want her to grow up in a single-parent household? What kind of mother would do that? You have no sense of responsibility!”

I could hardly believe the audacity of his words. He had the nerve to mention Tania? Our daughter who had died because he was too busy with Kate to care?

I took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Adam, you don’t deserve to mention Tania’s name. When we needed you most, you were with Kate. Now you dare to talk about responsibility?”

For a moment, Adam looked flustered, then his expression hardened. “You’ve been spying on me? How else would you know Kate is back?”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore. Just sign the papers.”

I turned away from him, not wanting to see the look on his face any longer. My phone suddenly rang, interrupting the tense silence between us. I glanced at the screen—it was the cemetery staff.

“Hello?”

“Miss Rachel, you need to come to the cemetery immediately. Someone is trying to dig up your daughter’s grave.”

The blood drained from my face. I didn’t have time to argue with Adam anymore. Grabbing my bag, I rushed out the door without looking back. My heart pounded in my chest as I raced to the cemetery, praying that I wasn’t too late to protect what little I had left of my daughter.