Chapter 9

My daughter was pleasantly surprised by the beach trip; it was exactly what she'd always wanted. "Dad, I was so happy!" she exclaimed. She was so happy, in fact, that she hardly slept all night. The next morning, I packed our luggage. Seeing her joy, I decided to prioritize having fun before dealing with the impending divorce. Things had moved so quickly.

As the ticket inspection neared, Joaquin received a message. Panic consumed him. "Nyla… Nyla… she committed suicide! I have to…" he stammered.

I nodded with a smile. "No one is stopping you," I said.

His fear intensified at my smile. "Diana, believe me, I was saving lives, nothing else."

My smile softened. "You're right; human life is paramount. I understand."

Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief, offering a grateful glance. I touched my daughter's arm, then turned and ran. His departure meant forfeiting opportunities, a fact we both quietly observed. People, it seemed, were bound together by fate. I wouldn't change myself for anyone. We exchanged a smile, boarded the plane without emotion, and sent him the finalized divorce agreement.

Upon arriving at the seaside, I changed into a more modest swimsuit. Lia's eyes widened. "Mom, you have a great figure! Why don't you wear a bikini?"

I blushed slightly. "Mom's old; those are for little girls."

My daughter frowned. "Who decided that?"

Chapter 9 (continued)

I was stunned. When had I become so concerned with this perspective? I pondered, then remembered. It had begun years ago, shortly after giving birth. A college friend invited me out, a rare occurrence after months of childcare. That day, I unearthed an old skirt, one I loved before my pregnancy, that subtly cinched my waist. I eagerly put it on, feeling a resurgence of my old self. As I admired my reflection, Joaquin walked past and made a casual remark: "We're all mothers now. Who are you trying to impress wearing that? Besides, look at your little belly."

His words froze my smile, filling me with shame. I clumsily stripped off the clothes, hoping to erase the hurt with speed. Joaquin witnessed my reaction, yet continued. Feigning concern, he said, "Look, you even think you're ugly, right? In the future, wear less of these things. You don't want to be laughed at."

The postpartum hormones and Joaquin's cruelty overwhelmed me. I canceled my plans and cried at home, feeling the world collapse. He didn't comfort me; instead, he dismissed my emotions as overly dramatic and sensitive.

Chapter 10