Back at the hotel, I immediately began packing, preparing to leave.
My son looked at me in confusion but stayed silent, standing obediently nearby.
“Mommy, we’re not traveling anymore? We’re going home?”
Looking at my sweet, well-behaved boy, my heart softened.
He wasn’t such a little kid anymore—some things I could begin to tell him.
Taking a deep breath, I looked at him seriously.
“If I divorced your father, who would you choose to stay with?”
At my words, his pupils shrank. His small hand clenched tightly.
He didn’t ask why I would want to divorce his father—he just looked at me with unwavering determination.
“I’ll choose you. Mommy, you’re so good. If you want a divorce, it must be because Dad did something wrong to you.”
Hearing my son’s words, I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling.
Of course I was heartbroken. I had been married to Daniel Carter for eight years, pouring so much of my heart into our marriage.
It had been love at first sight. Back in college, he had pursued me eagerly.
We had married and started a family smoothly.
To support his startup, I had even handed over part of my own family’s resources to help him.
I once believed we would live happily for a lifetime.