Divorce After Broken Promises

Mack West and I were college classmates, though we pursued different areas of study. He was a special admit; I was the valedictorian. At twenty, Mack confessed his feelings to me, and I was touched. At twenty-one, he proposed, causing quite a stir at Yale. At twenty-two, we got married and made headlines. Also at twenty-two, on my birthday, I gave birth to Alex West.

As I lay in the hotel room, I experienced a surprising sense of tranquility. I've always had issues with sleep—going to bed late, waking early, and having vivid dreams. Two years ago, Mack spent a fortune on a high-quality mattress for me. Oddly, despite the careful selection, I still tossed and turned on it nightly. Yet tonight, the hotel’s comfort exceeded all expectations. I slept well, although just before waking, I had a brief dream.

In the dream, I returned to the day Mack proposed. As an observer, I stood on the periphery, watching the familiar moment unfold. Mack was on one knee, holding a dazzling ring, his eyes full of determination and love. "Regina, after graduation, I'll return to New York with you. I will love you forever, and we’ll never be apart." Dream Regina’s eyes brimmed with joyful tears. Yet, I knew those beautiful promises would eventually unravel into chaos. I tried to intervene, but no sound escaped my throat.

"Regina, marry me."

The onlookers urged, "Say yes, say yes!"

Dream Regina slowly extended her hand.

"Don’t accept!" I exerted all my strength. Then I awoke, the phrase "Don’t accept" echoing in the room, particularly desolate and helpless. I held onto a shred of hope that in some parallel world, Regina heard my cry and didn’t marry Mack.

Reflecting on Mack’s proposal, he hadn’t entirely failed to deliver on his promises. After graduation, he did move to New York with me and settled there, in my city. Back then, he truly loved me. Mack was an only child; his parents lived in another state. They were reasonable and always supportive of their son. In the first year of our marriage, our relationship was strong. Mack spent nearly all his time with me when he wasn’t working. No networking, no socializing, no acting like a CEO. He often said that as long as he could be with me, nothing else mattered.

He...

The phone rang, pulling me back to reality. It was Kaitlyn, the nanny.

"Mrs. West, where are you? How could you leave Alex alone at home?" Her tone was reproachful, almost like an interrogation.

I was a bit dazed. Glancing at the time, I realized I’d slept until after ten.

"Got it."

At home, everything was as usual. Mack clearly hadn’t taken my words from last night to heart. Alex, still in his pajamas, was carrying his “warrior” bow, shooting arrows and battling monsters all over the house. Kaitlyn couldn’t keep up, shielding her face and calling out, "Young Master, Young Master," as she chased him around.

Alex spotted me, "Fight the monster!" He shot a foam arrow at me.

"Hit it, hit it!" He jumped up joyfully.

It didn’t hurt, but it was bothersome. I grabbed another toy bow, launching a counterattack with a foam arrow that landed squarely on his chest. Alex paused for a moment before bursting into tears.

"Mommy is mean! I don’t want Mommy, I want Daddy! Regina, I’m going to tell Grandma and Grandpa, and Nana and Pop-Pop, that you hit me."

In our family, Alex was allowed to call me by my name. Mack always said Alex was becoming more like me. He was mistaken. The way Alex prepared to report was exactly like his father. In the past, when Mack and I argued, he’d complain to my parents. Initially, I thought it was endearing. But over time, it was always me getting reprimanded. My parents had a favorite line: "Mack moved to New York for you."

By the way, Mack wasn’t a live-in son-in-law.

Watching Alex cry didn’t irritate me. Normally, I’d crouch down to soothe him, gently reasoning with him, and even apologizing if necessary. But today, I was exhausted. Yesterday afternoon, I picked Alex up from preschool. The whole way home, he was sullen, refusing to speak with me. After persistent questioning, he said, "Other kids have their dads come, but I don’t."

He said, "Because you don’t work, Daddy has to keep earning money, so he doesn’t have time to pick me up."

He said, "Mommy doesn’t know how to do anything except spend Daddy’s money."

He said many other things, but I’d rather forget them.

Even though Alex didn’t speak with malice, his words still cut deep. Mack not picking up his son became my fault. But Alex didn’t know his father wasn’t particularly fond of him.

"I want Daddy! Not Regina."

Alex continued shouting and screaming. I crouched down, gently pinching his soft, chubby cheeks.

"Let’s go find Daddy right now."