The Day My Children Called Another Woman 'Mom'

I had long grown used to Ethan’s contempt.

Turning around, I shut the door behind me, ignoring the glare burning into my back.

I had to get a divorce.

I’ve spent thirty years being timid, always yielding.

Now, like Sophie, I wanted to see the world beyond these suffocating walls.

After Ethan left, I drove straight to the law office.

There, I drafted a new divorce agreement.

It took a while, and on the way home, I bought myself an ice cream.

The sweetness melted in my mouth,

and for the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of lightness.

Even when I came home to find Ella and Mia had torn the room apart,

my mood didn’t falter.

But the children weren’t pleased.

Ella glared at me, her voice sharp.

“Bad mommy! You’re eating secretly!”

Mia chimed in, not missing a beat.

“I want ice cream too!”

I took the final bite, my expression calm and indifferent.

“If you want ice cream, ask your new mom to buy it for you.”

They froze for a second.

Then Ella stomped her foot and burst into tears.

“You’re a bad mom! You always sneak around! I hate you!”

“Give it back! Or I’ll never forgive you!”

Then, shockingly, both of them spat at me.

Their furious, twisted faces looked nothing like the sweet, lovable children I remembered.

A bitter irony washed over me.

I had once believed that sacrificing myself would let them grow up well, healthy, and loved.

But I’d forgotten a simple truth:

A household that does not respect its mother cannot raise children who do.

Ethan’s scorn, his cold distance—

And now, the child I once risked my life to bring into the world had become a blade,

cutting into me without mercy.

I let out a quiet sigh,

turned, and began packing my bags.

But when I walked into the bedroom, I froze.

My clothes, my bags—splattered in thick red paint.

Ella stood there, stomping on a photo of me.

“I hate you, bad mom!”

Staring at the angry little figure before me,

I didn’t feel sadness anymore.

My heart was long exhausted, worn down after years of silent suffering.

I sighed again and quietly turned to leave.

Just as I reached the stairs, I felt a violent shove.

My body lurched forward.

I tumbled downward, pain erupting everywhere as blood spread across the steps.

With trembling hands, I lifted my head.

Ella stared back at me, unbothered, even triumphant.

“You deserve it. I told you to give me ice cream.”

Mia stood beside her, holding a vase like some child demon.

“Why didn’t you die? If you died, Aunt Sophie could be our new mom!”

With that, the vase came crashing down,

shattering on the floor beside me in an explosion of glass.

The noise finally drew Ethan out of the study.

He frowned at the chaos before his eyes settled on me,

bloodied and on the ground.

“Lily, what are you doing now?”

Before I could say anything,

Ella and Mia rushed into his arms, crying pitifully.

“Dad, Mom is so mean! She won’t let us eat ice cream, and she hit us!”

“We got scared and tried to hide—then she just fell!”

“Lily!” Ethan roared, his face contorted with rage.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Ella and Mia are your own flesh and blood!

You hurt them just to fight Sophie over affection?

Are you even human?”

“You want a divorce?” he shouted.

“Fine! Let’s divorce now.

You don’t deserve to be their mother!”

He scooped the children into his arms.

With disgust, he threw the documents he was holding at my face.

I clenched my fists silently,

swallowing every word I wanted to scream.