After the Divorce, I Only Need My Daughter

The resolve in my daughter's expression wavered.

She trembled in my arms, her small fingers clutching the front of my shirt as she looked toward Reginald.

"Uncle Reggie, do you think it's my fault too?"

Reginald was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

"No matter what happened, hitting someone is still wrong."

"You heard him, Moira. Now hurry up and apologize to Tyler."

"Why should she apologize?"

I pulled my daughter closer, firing back immediately.

"Wasn't he the one who started it by calling her names?"

"Calling her a bastard and her mother trash — he deserved to get hit!"

At that, Fiona pinched the little boy hard.

Tyler burst into wailing sobs, and Fiona's own eyes reddened on cue.

"Tyler's parents are overseas all year round. I've been the one raising him since he was little. Even a scraped knee breaks my heart."

She pulled up the boy's sleeve, shoving a ghastly purple bruise right under Reginald's nose.

"Now he's been beaten like this, and I can't even get a basic apology for him. How can I face him when he calls me Auntie?"

Reginald didn't hesitate any longer. He turned to the teacher.

"If Moira refuses to apologize, we're requesting that this be handled formally."

"If a student can assault another child and face zero consequences, every other kid in this school will think that's acceptable."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you threatening me?"

Reginald couldn't meet my eyes. His voice softened.

"Hailey, you were nearly detained today for hitting someone. Do you really want Moira following in those footsteps?"

"It's just an apology. I promise no one will say those things to her again."

Moira lifted her head from my arms. Her voice was small, but every word was clear.

"Mommy, if I say sorry, will they stop making things hard for you?"

My eyes burned. I swallowed the ache in my throat and stroked her hair.

"You don't need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Go wait for me outside, okay? Mommy will come get you soon."

I walked her to the door and closed it behind her.

She must have sensed what I was about to do. Her fists pounded against the door, and she started crying, calling for me.

The bridge of my nose stung. My throat clenched so tight it hurt.

I was stubborn by nature. Proud my whole life. I had never once bowed my head or backed down.

When my parents tried to guilt me with everything they'd done for me, demanding I drop out of school and marry some middle-aged bachelor back home, I stole my own ID and birth certificate and cut them off for good.

When Alvin used the threat of leaving me with nothing to keep me in line, expecting me to swallow his affair in silence, I filed for divorce on the spot and fought tooth and nail to win custody of my daughter.

But now, under Fiona's gaze — the triumph she could barely contain —

I bent. Inch by inch.

My eyes throbbed with pressure. I ground every last shred of humiliation and fury between my teeth and swallowed it whole.

Just as I was about to force that apology through my clenched jaw —

A voice came from behind me. Familiar. Cold as steel.

"She doesn't need to apologize."

Alvin James stood in the doorway, tailored suit sharp against the cramped little office like he'd walked in from another world entirely.

He led Moira inside by the hand. He didn't spare a single glance at Fiona, whose eyes had already lit up at the sight of him.

His gaze landed on me, steady and burning, and he said it again.

"My wife doesn't owe anyone an apology."

Fiona's face twisted for a split second, the mask nearly cracking as a scream clawed its way up her throat.

Her eyes fixed on me, venomous. "She's your ex-wife. Is she really worth all this?"

"Moira refused to apologize. As her mother, shouldn't she take responsibility and apologize on Moira's behalf?"

"Her daughter hit my nephew — it's all on the security cameras!"

Alvin looked at Fiona as though he'd only just noticed she was in the room.