When I Can’t Say Goodbye to You Personally

The place next door was swarming with folks; cop cars and ambulances were everywhere; it was a madhouse. Aimee was itching to go over and inquire, but Vincent put a halt to it. "There's nothing worth seeing; let's go."

She ended up taking Vincent home, but before they could enter, Nina stopped him at the door, aimed a water gun at him. "Bad guy! I don't want you in my house! Go away! Go away!"

Aimee quickly moved to stop him, but was unexpectedly splattered with paint by Nina. In a fit of anger, she swiftly took hold of Nina's collar and forcefully pulled her indoors. "Nina! If I don't teach you a lesson right now, I'm not worthy of being your mother!"

She locked Nina in the storage room, ignoring her pleas and cries.

"Mom, please, don't lock me in here. I'm afraid of the dark; mom, please..."

Aimee deliberately provoked her. "Now you know you were wrong? It's all because of Miles spoiling you! Useless! I won't let you out!"

I floated in front of Aimee and yelled, "How dare you! Nina has claustrophobia! Are you trying to kill her?"

If she had put a little effort into Nina, she would have found out that Nina has severe claustrophobia and can't stand such a dark environment!

But she didn't. She doesn't like me, and she dislikes our daughter as well.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, finally dropping them.

I can't help Nina anymore.

I could only stay by Nina's side, comforting her over and over again that it was okay.

Creak - the door was opened.

Light streamed in through the crack in the door; a tall figure slowly shortened along the light and shadow, standing in front of Nina.

I looked up; it was Vincent.

Why is he so kind, wanting to let Nina go?

The question was quickly answered; he wasn't here to let Nina go, but to humiliate an eight-year-old child while Aimee was taking a shower.

"Your parents are about to get divorced, do you know that?"

"I'll be moving in then. I'll be your new dad."

"So you better change your attitude, or I can't guarantee I'll treat you like Miles did!" Vincent lifted her chin, smiling arrogantly.

Nina slapped his hand away, hitting and kicking him. "You're lying! You're a liar! I don't believe you! Go away! Bad guy!"

Aimee just came out. Vincent feigned a sudden collapse and teary eyes as he gazed at her. He struggled to speak, saying, "I only wanted to set her free, but I never imagined she would despise me."

Aimee rushed over without a word and slapped Nina. "Nina! What's wrong with you? How dare you hit Mr. Walker? Do you know--"

"I hate you! I hate you all!" Nina covered her face and looked up at her, her tear-filled eyes full of resentment.

Vincent, having taken advantage, wanted to push it further. "Aimee, I'm sorry... It's all my fault. I made you and your daughter fight like this."

Aimee helped him back to the room. She was softly comforting him. "It's okay. It's all because of Miles spoiling her. Just leave her alone."

She sat down by the bed, sighed, and raised her hand to rub her temples.

Vincent looked worried, walked over, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you having a headache again? I'll find some medicine and rub it for you."

He rummaged through the counter. Finally, his gaze darkened and settled on the crystal ball in the corner.

I had a bad feeling and wanted to float over and stop him, but I was powerless.

His finger flicked lightly, and in the next moment, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the floor.

The crystal ball was smashed...

Aimee heard the noise and hurried over. Vincent still used his usual trick. "I'm sorry Aimee, I didn't hold it properly. I smashed it. You won't blame me, will you..."

Aimee didn't even look at the thing on the ground, as she hastily grabbed his hand. "Vincent, are you hurt? Is your hand okay?"

Vincent shook his head. "I'm fine, it's just this..."

Aimee pulled him away a bit, her tone without emotion. "It doesn't matter; it's just a useless thing. If it's broken, just let it be."

A useless thing... if it's broken, just let it be...

I squatted on the ground, staring at the pile of broken glass in a daze.