Chapter 8

When I arrived, my daughter threw herself into my arms, crying. Her hair was disheveled, and several obvious bloodstains marred her face. She cried more intensely than I’d ever seen: “Mom, Erik told his classmates I’m a thief, that I steal his things and even his dad!”

As I hugged my daughter and prepared to call the police, Nyla approached, her son in tow, with a fierce expression. She looked at us disdainfully and drawled, “Children just play. Why all the fuss? Girls are so melodramatic.” She continued, “Moreover, my son did nothing wrong. Your daughter is the thief, and you’re just like her. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I laughed loudly. “You dare accuse others of being a mistress? Does Erik know his mother is a despicable woman?” I turned, feigning fear, to address the onlookers. “You all know this woman, right? She steals other people’s husbands and fathers!”

The children’s expressions shifted. Their clear eyes fixed on Erik. “Why is your mother like that? That’s immoral!” one declared. Another chimed in, “Yeah, why steal someone else’s dad? Is it because you don’t have one?” Erik’s face reddened.

I burst into tears. Nyla angrily snapped, “Only unloved women are mistresses! What right do you have to say that about me?”

Before I could respond, other parents intervened. “You’re shameless! Your brain must be filled with internet memes,” one exclaimed. Another added, “What kind of person raises a child like that? You’re hitting Lia now; who knows who you’ll hit next?” A third parent stated, “I don’t want my daughter in the same kindergarten as your son. It’s disgusting.”

Nyla trembled, her eyes filled with jealousy. Suddenly, she lunged at me. I grabbed her and slapped her back.

Nyla screamed in agony as she fell. The surrounding parents erupted in applause.

I looked down at her and said slowly, “I have a record of all the money Joaquin spent on you. It’s marital property. You have three days to return it; otherwise, don’t blame me for unpleasant consequences.”

Nyla’s eyes were bloodshot, her defiance unwavering. “That money belongs to Joaquin! What’s it to you? You, a woman without charm, can’t spend it, yet you’re jealous of me. I—”

She stopped mid-sentence, spotting someone. Crying, she ran towards Joaquin, who had just arrived.

I watched coldly as Joaquin frowned and pushed Nyla away. I picked up my daughter, examining her wound. My daughter’s tears started anew.

Nyla, her face full of grievance, said to Joaquin, “Look at my face! She hit me!”

Joaquin looked at her grimly. Nyla, thinking he was angry with her, wiped away her tears. “Diana, this is impulsive. It was just a joke between children—”

But Joaquin interrupted. “Watch your son closely. If he ever touches my daughter again, I won’t let him off easily.”

Nyla’s disbelief was palpable. Her voice trembled. “Joaquin, what are you saying? It’s a small matter!”

I turned away, holding my daughter, ignoring their bickering. I heard hurried footsteps; Joaquin took Lia from my arms. We went to the hospital together.

From that day on, Joaquin ignored Nyla. He became a devoted husband and father. Nyla’s reputation was ruined. Someone in the parents’ group anonymously spread her story online. Though no names were mentioned, everyone knew who it was. Erik was ostracized. Joaquin seemed indifferent, as if he no longer cared. After my daughter’s recovery, he gave us three tickets.

Chapter 9