Contemplating Divorce: A First

I pulled George, who was comforting Angel, over to sit beside our daughter as I wept profusely.

George, shaken off by me, stood there awkwardly but soon said softly, "Don't worry, okay? You're scaring the child!"

It took Monica a good while to enter the room, standing there awkwardly with an extremely uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Grace, I'm going to head back now. Don't be upset, and call me if you need anything!" Monica managed to say, then turning to Angel, "Sweetheart, Auntie has to go now. Get well soon and I'll buy you some treats!"

I wiped away my tears and glanced at George, "Didn't you say it's been a long time since you last saw Monica? See her out."

George's eyes narrowed momentarily before he forced a smile, "Okay! Don't cry, alright?"

After George escorted Monica out, by the door, I heard her say, "Don't bother sending me off, the child is what's important! I'll come by when I have time!"

Following the sound of her high heels receding, George came back to my side and asked in a low voice, "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Do you really not know what's wrong?" I retorted with tearful eyes as Angel began to cry again. I quickly bent down to kiss her little face, "It's okay, don't cry, baby! Mommy is here!"

And then I cried too. Yes, Mommy is here! Mommy is always here! But what about Daddy? If we really get divorced, Angel would...

I was startled by my own thoughts.

The afternoon was restless with visits from the kindergarten, the child's parents, and George's parents. It was noisy and overwhelming until late into the night when it finally quieted down, and Angel fell asleep. I had to stay vigilant as the doctor said she couldn't move her head too much.

George spent the night on the phone in the corridor, and I sat numbly by the bed, watching my sleeping daughter, my mind in turmoil.

He noticed my mood and was careful to stay by my side, not leaving the hospital all night, and I had no intention of asking him to go back.

Watching his tall frame curled up by the bed, I was conflicted. In the past, I would have insisted he go home to rest; after all, he had to work. But now, I felt differently. This was his responsibility; he had to stay. He might not love me, but he couldn't stop loving his daughter.

After three days in the hospital, the doctor finally allowed us to go home.

Back at home, George suggested that Angel should rest for a few more days to avoid any further mishaps. He rested briefly before rushing back to work.

As I watched him leave, I became anxious and my mind raced with wild thoughts. I had become hypersensitive; I didn't know whether stepping out of the door meant he was running to his lover. My head was filled with images of his longing, his need for release after being confined for days.

I suddenly felt that as soon as he was out of my sight, it was like releasing a tiger back into the wild. If he could lie so easily under my watch, what was he capable of outside it?

Monica called once over the next couple of days, inquiring about Angel. I responded nonchalantly, but every time I thought of her lying to me alongside George, I shuddered at the sinister nature of humanity.

I had to confirm quickly whether she was indeed 'Mrs. Smith'. If it turned out to be Monica, what was I to do? For the first time, I contemplated divorce.

I told myself through gritted teeth that I would make George pay dearly, leaving him with nothing.

After the fall, Angel became particularly clingy, hardly leaving my embrace, which meant I could hardly step away. This caused me great distress.

George, like a sly fox, left no room for suspicion, clocking in and out of work punctually, without giving me any reason to question him. I couldn't find a shred of evidence in anything he brought home; sometimes, I even doubted if I was suffering from paranoia.

Finally managing to put Angel down for a nap and realizing we were out of fresh vegetables and fruits, I decided to quickly run to the nearby market, not bothering to change my clothes. I needed to make it a quick trip.

But upon my return, I was shocked to find that I couldn't find my keys anywhere. After a moment of frustration slapping my forehead, I realized I must have forgotten to take them with me when I left.

I dialed George's number, and he answered in a low voice. After explaining my predicament, he told me, "I'm in a meeting and can't get away. Ask Fiona to go back for you!"