“Angela, you still have the nerve to come back?” My father was the first to explode, slamming the table so hard the teacup rattled noisily against the wood. “You won’t even care for your own child just to get a divorce. What on earth are you thinking?”
I didn’t respond. My silence was the only shield I had left.
It was Jonathan who finally broke it, his voice flat, stripped of warmth.
“I’ve already drafted the divorce agreement. The assets will remain with me, and Ethan’s custody will also be mine. You can visit him anytime, but you may not take him away.” He pushed the papers across the table toward me. “If you have no objections, sign it.”
Our parents pounced immediately, their voices loud and sharp.
“That’s the way it should be! She’s so heartless to her own child—she’s not fit to be a mother."
"Letting her walk away with nothing is already too kind. If you ask me, she shouldn’t even have the right to see the child again.”
My mother clutched my hand under the table, her voice low and trembling with tears. “Angela, just accept it. You wronged Jonathan, you wronged Ethan. Stop making trouble, please.”