Discarded for His First Love

2: 2

The tears kept coming, and I stared at him through them.

My lips moved, but not a single word came out.

Aaron seemed to know exactly what I was about to ask. In a quiet voice he said, “You can't force love. We've been together ten years, and in all that time I really did try to love you. Not long ago, when I was sick, you looked after me in the hospital for three days and three nights. Watching you fall asleep exhausted, I felt something for you, and I thought I'd finally fallen in love with you. But it wasn't until she came back that I understood, clearly and for certain, what real love actually is.”

There was no doubt about who ‘she’ was. His first love.

The woman on that phone he could never have.

My stomach turned over. I bit down hard on my lip and still couldn't stop myself from asking again, “Aaron, are you serious?”

Not a flicker of hesitation. “Very serious.”

“And what about our daughter?” I heard my own voice tear out of me.

He was silent for a few seconds. “She can come with me, or she can stay with you. You decide.”

Ten years of marriage, and not the slightest pause.

As if these ten years had only been a wrong turn on the road, and now he could finally circle back.

I wanted to scream again.

Wanted to demand answers.

But I knew that would only make me look like a madwoman.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, there was nothing left in me.

“Fine. Then let's divorce.”

He seemed thrown that I'd agreed so easily. He froze for a moment, then said, “Don't worry, I won't shortchange you on the assets……”

“No need.”

I cut him off. “I only want our daughter, and child support for her.”

He looked at me for a while.

In the end he nodded. “All right. I'll have my lawyer draw up the agreement tomorrow.”

With that, he turned and went into our daughter's room.

Soon the sound of a bedtime story drifted out.

Our daughter giggled and asked, “And then what?”

He lowered his voice to play the big bad wolf, and she burst out laughing.

I stood in the living room, still clutching that phone.

The message was still lit up on the screen.

That contact name dug into my eyes like a thorn.

I pressed the screen dark and set the phone down on the coffee table.

At some point it had started to rain outside.

And suddenly I remembered.

Ten years ago he'd ridden me through the rain on his scooter, telling me to tuck in behind him, promising that once we had money he'd never let me get caught in the rain again.

Life was hard back then, but his back was broad.

I'd held on tight, and I could feel his heartbeat.

I thought I'd found the man I'd spend my whole life with. I never imagined it would end as a joke.

When I came back to myself, the tears had already blurred my eyes.

I wiped them away and went into our daughter's room.

Seeing me, she wriggled out of Aaron's arms and burrowed into mine.

He glanced at me, then turned and left.

The door shut, and she hugged me tight. :

“Mommy, are you sad today?”

My eyes stung. I smiled and bent down to kiss her forehead. “Mommy has you, so Mommy's very happy. Go to sleep now. I'll stay with you.”

Once she was asleep.

I switched off the light, got up, and sat there in the dark for a long time.

From the study next door came the sound of Aaron on the phone, low, too soft to make out, but the tone was tender.

He used to speak tenderly to me too. But it was nothing like this tenderness.

I took out my own phone.

I scrolled to a number I hadn't called in a long time.

My mother.

My finger hovered over the call button and wouldn't press it.

Ten years ago, when I asked them to lower the bride price.

My mother, a schoolteacher who'd been gentle her whole life, cursed me out with red-rimmed eyes. “Virginia, have you lost your mind? A bride price of a hundred and eighty-eight thousand is already the lowest anyone around here accepts, and now you want to force it down to thirty-three thousand. Do you really think your father and I care about that bit of money? We just wanted you to marry with dignity, so no one would look down on you like you were some cheap, throwaway girl.”

And what did I say to her then?

I said, “The bride price is just a formality. It doesn't matter whether there is one. As long as he truly treats me well, that's enough.”

But in the end, that thirty-three thousand became a brand burned into me.

Became one sentence. “You're cheap.”

The rain came down harder.

In the end I pressed the call button.

It rang twice before she picked up.

My mother's voice came through, mocking. “Virginia, aren't you living it up as the wife of a rich man? What are you calling me for?”

“Mom.”

I'd barely opened my mouth when the tears spilled over.

My voice broke. :

“I want to come home.”