I Wasn't the Mother She Wanted

The doctor shook his head without saying anything else. I sat there quietly, waiting for him to treat my wounds.

It was past midnight when I returned to Ruth's hospital ward. However, she was long gone.

A nurse patted my shoulder kindly and said, "Miss, the child's father left a message for you. He said he would be leaving with her first because she was being too fussy."

"Alright." I forced an ugly grimace. I didn't expect Jordan, Ruth, and Vivian to leave while I was having my wounds treated.

The night wind howled as I walked home. I didn't know how to describe how I felt.

When I was younger, Jordan used to treat me with such care. He would worry about me suffering and struggling and would insist on picking me up, no matter where I was.

Now, someone else had taken my place in his heart. Even the child I'd risked my life bringing into this world didn't care about me. I couldn't help feeling pathetic for ending up in such a situation.

I was halfway home when Jordan suddenly called me. Things sounded lively on his end, and I frowned as I held the phone to my ear.

He said, "Dawn, I've brought Ruth out for supper. You can join us if you're done—I'll send you the location now."

Then, my phone pinged. Judging by the location, they were at a place just beside the hospital. It was clear he'd only just remembered me after they'd been eating for a while.

I said, "It's fine. You guys go ahead."

I hung up calmly, but tears streamed down my face. My chest hurt so badly that it felt like it would soon explode.

It was easy to say that everything was okay or that nothing mattered, but I couldn't convince myself of that, no matter how many times I tried to.

Jordan was my husband, and Ruth was my child. How could they not matter?

Still, I had no choice. It was time for me to go.

…

Rays of the rising sun spilled through the windows as I packed my things and placed a divorce agreement on the bedside table.

Jordan hadn't come home. He'd texted me in the wee hours, saying that he, Vivian, and Ruth would spend the night at a hotel because it was too much trouble and too late to go back and forth.

Perhaps worried I would read too deeply into the situation, he even made sure to show me that they'd gotten two rooms.

I'd read the message but hadn't replied. I was due to leave that day, so it was good that they weren't home. I didn't want to complicate things with a dragged-out farewell, and I didn't want to see the contempt on Ruth's face.

"Let's go," I said to the person who'd come to pick me up, handing my luggage to him.

Just then, Jordan returned. He was carrying a bag of takeout and looked cheery as he held Ruth. However, his smile soon disappeared when he saw me with my luggage.

Frowning, he handed Ruth to Vivian. "You guys head inside first. I need to speak to Dawn, and I don't want to scare Ruth."

I had to admit that he wasn't half-bad as a father. I exhaled deeply and smiled faintly at him. "I've packed my things, and I need to go. Take care of Ruth."

Jordan sneered when he saw me acting like I was saying my last words. "What are you up to this time, Dawn? Ruth is still sick, and it's bad enough that you're not caring for her when you're her mother. Are you making things worse by running away from home? How old are you? Can you stop being so immature?"

He kept his voice low, not wanting to alarm Ruth. That did nothing to conceal his anger from me, though. I could tell that he was furious.

"Jordan, I'm just giving you what you—all of you—want," I answered. I kept my tone as calm as possible, but he seemed to take it as an admission of guilt.

"Get going, then. Don't regret this!"

He didn't turn back or even spare me a glance before disappearing into our apartment. He slammed the door in my face, and the sound echoed in the empty corridor.