When the Truth Came Out, I was Heartbroken

After searching for hours, the police finally found Nina in an abandoned building.

But they asked me to be mentally prepared.

"What do you mean by mental preparation?!" I stared at their grave expressions, my heart racing as my legs gave way beneath me.

I forced myself to move, slowly, toward the abandoned building.

The walk felt like an eternity, and when I finally reached it, I was barely able to stand.

There, lying on the floor, was my daughter, eyes closed as if she were peacefully asleep. But her limbs were twisted in unnatural positions, as if they belonged to someone else, haphazardly placed on her small body.

"Nina! Nina!" I screamed, wanting to rush to her and hold her close, but the officers held me back, warning me not to disturb the scene.

"What scene?! She's just sleeping! I need to wake her up!" I yelled, desperately trying to convince myself that she was only unconscious.

But then I saw the dried blood near a wound on her head. My voice trembled, "She's hurt! Someone help her, please!" I could hardly hear my own shaking voice.

The officers pulled me aside, trying to comfort me, but their words fell on deaf ears. I stood there, paralyzed, watching as the coroner approached to examine her. I couldn't say a word.

I don't know how I made it home, or how I managed to fall asleep. All I remember is waking up clutching a photo of Nina in my arms, her bright smile holding a teddy bear her father had given her.

The police returned her school bag to me. I opened it and found an essay she had written titled "My Dear Mom and Dad." It had earned top marks.

Through tears, I smiled. I knew she had been so proud of this essay and had wanted to show it to her dad. But she never got the chance to get her father's reading and praise.

That night, Norman finally came home.

He looked happier than I'd ever seen him, with a spring in his step that I had never known.

That expression of satisfaction and joy, so evident on his face, made it painfully clear how much fun he had been having with Cindy, how completely he had forgotten about our daughter.

Not only did he come home, but he also brought Cindy with him.

"Yesterday was her birthday, and she's sick. She's all alone here without family, so I went to take care of her," he explained, a bit guilty.

I sat on the couch, staring blankly as they walked into the living room, watching as he called me to greet his guest.

Seeing me remain silent, Norman grew irritated and walked over, his voice cold. "All those calls you made yesterday, over and over, like a crazy person. Do you have any idea how many times you called? Was that really necessary?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you two, but I had no one else to turn to. Norman is the only one I can rely on," Cindy said softly, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

I could see the smug satisfaction in her eyes. In the past, I might have cared. But now... I simply didn't have the energy.

Of course, I knew she was doing it on purpose. I had seen the photos she posted on social media, flaunting their time together. How could I not know?

But I no longer had the strength to care about such petty games.

Seeing my indifference, Cindy wasn't satisfied. "Where's Nina? Norman mentioned her to me. I've been wanting to meet her for a long time. I feel bad for missing her birthday, so I brought a gift to make up for it."

Cindy glanced at the photo of Nina on the table. "She's so cute." With that, she reached out to pick up the photo, but I snatched it away from her.

"Don't touch her! You have no right to touch her!" I snapped, my voice cold. If it weren't for her, would Norman have forgotten his promise to pick up our daughter?

"Mandy, what are you doing?" Norman frowned and walked over, his face full of displeasure as he looked at me with disdain.

"Can't you be more mature? She just wants to see a picture of our daughter. What's the big deal?" He grabbed the photo from my hands and handed it to Cindy.

I stood there, stunned, finally realizing that the one I should truly resent was not Cindy, but Norman. If he hadn't been so focused on seeing his first love, would he have forgotten to pick up our daughter?

Even if he couldn't make it, why didn't he call me and let me know? In the end, compared to his first love, our daughter didn't matter at all.

"Mandy, where's Nina? Why I don't see her? Is she already asleep?" Norman asked, pushing open her bedroom door and not finding her. He turned back to me, looking confused. "Where's Nina?"

Hearing Nina's name, I instinctively looked up at him. He still hadn't bothered to read the messages I sent him. It was laughable. He even didn't see my messages.

I watched them both looking at me with innocence and confusion, as if I was the third party who destroyed their family.

I knew they had once been in love, and I also knew they had parted ways out of spite, each marrying someone else.

When I learned that my arranged match was him, I had been overjoyed. I had secretly loved him for so long—since high school—but I never dared to approach him. All I could do was listen to the gossip about him and her.

I always knew that he had a place in his heart for Cindy. I pretended not to notice, tiptoeing around, doing my best to be a good wife, hoping to build a happy family and protect this fragile "happiness."

When our daughter arrived, there was finally a spark of hope in his eyes. As my belly grew, he began to care more about me, learning to offer words of comfort.

When Nina was born, it was as if he had come back to life, dancing with joy outside the delivery room, kissing and holding her, feeding her, changing her diapers. At that moment, I truly believed his heart had thawed, and we could live a life that belonged to us.

Norman named our daughter Nina, saying she was his precious little girl. Deep down, I knew that "Nina" was Cindy's nickname, but I pretended not to.

I thought that as our daughter grew, he would let go of the past, that their story would become a memory. But then Cindy broke up with her wealthy boyfriend, citing domestic abuse.

I never expected her to return, let alone come to our house and rekindle their old flame. It turned out that I thought things too simply.

"You still remember the promise you made to our daughter, right? To celebrate her birthday?"