Love Amidst Divorce Woes

My mom, Joanna, is the sole heiress of one of London's elite families and has recently been involved with a rising star from the entertainment industry. Videos of their encounters at luxury hotels have dominated the headlines, trending repeatedly on Twitter, while my dad could only sulk at home, scowling as he did the laundry.

When Joanna finally returned home, she tossed a divorce agreement onto the table. "The five-year arrangement is up. You're free to leave now."

"Really?" Tears of relief filled Yusuf's eyes. Overjoyed, he still made sure to pass on his household duties. He instructed the young actor, "Her clothes need this special detergent. It's all yours from now on."

So, off Yusuf went, leaving with a gleeful bounce in his step. It wasn't until the next afternoon, as school let out, that I spotted him at the daycare entrance, wearing sunglasses and a mask. He greeted me with two big kisses and apologized repeatedly.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I was just so thrilled to be free yesterday that I accidentally forgot to pick you up."

Forgot? His own daughter? I crossed my arms, turned away, and pouted, refusing to acknowledge him.

"There was something I was wondering," Yusuf hesitated before finally asking, "After I left, did that guy stay over at our house?"

I nodded, correcting him earnestly: "Not 'guy,' it's the handsome brother. He even made spiced honey cake for me this morning, and it was better than yours!"

His gaze dimmed, and his long lashes drooped like little fans. With a hint of sadness in his voice, he said, "I know you said that just to tease me, but it still makes me sad."

No wonder Joanna claims he's the master of playing the victim—anyone would feel sympathy. I was about to pat his head in comfort when he shifted gears and asked, "And... did that brother share a room with Mom?"

"Yusuf, don't forget that the agreement clearly states: after the divorce, you can't visit your daughter without my permission."

A cold, authoritative voice cut through the air from a short distance away, causing Yusuf to tense up. Gathering himself, he finally turned around.

In the gentle breeze, Joanna stood there in four-inch heels, her tailored pencil skirt perfectly accentuating her shapely figure, her makeup exquisitely cold and authoritative without a hint of anger.

Yusuf bravely attempted to resist, "But we're not divorced yet. Even if we were, why can't I see my own daughter whenever I want? This is an outrageous clause..."

"Enough."

Resistance was futile, and Yusuf wisely chose to remain silent.

Joanna bent down to pick me up, her previously sharp gaze softening instantly, full of affection and care.

"Sweetheart, did you have fun with your friends at daycare today? Are you hungry now? How about I take you out for a nice meal?" she cooed.

Then, shifting back to the commanding businesswoman, she faced Yusuf: "If the divorce agreement looks fine, let's finalize it at the city hall this weekend."

"...Okay."

As Mom and I settled into the luxurious car, I glanced out the window at Dad, who stood there helplessly, still in place. My heart ached a little. "Mommy, are you really letting Dad go? He seems a bit pitiful."

Joanna turned to look out the opposite window without replying. It wasn't until I was nearly asleep that I heard a faint, almost imperceptible sigh.

"He was the one who abandoned Mommy all along."