Chapter 2

Late that night, I, a long-time insomniac, had a peaceful dream. I knew, instinctively, that I had finally come home.

Two days later, Brock called. He asked coldly, "Where did you put the silk shirt you bought overseas last year?" I immediately told him its location and suggested he use the tie in the far left of the storage compartment, which complemented the shirt. I heard him rustling clothes. His next words were laced with awkward approval. "It's fine, I'll wear it to tonight's dinner party." He paused. "Send me your address; I'll have someone deliver the custom-made anniversary jewelry."

I refused. "No need; my taste differs from Ivy's." Ivy Pugh, Brock's first love, had returned to her country and become his personal secretary, controlling everything from his schedule to his gifts.

When I mentioned Ivy, Brock's tone chilled. "What are you? Dare to compare yourself to Ivy?"

I chuckled softly. "You're right. I don't deserve it. That's why I'm letting you stop wasting things on me."

He was speechless. I glanced at the clock. "Could you have Ivy schedule a trip to City Hall as soon as possible? Just text me the date; no need to call."

As I was about to hang up, Brock changed the subject. "My son is here and wants to speak to you."

Without waiting for Jamie, I ended the call. Just as that day, Jamie swiftly and decisively blocked me without explanation. I put down my phone, took my grandmother's hand, and settled in to watch the opera.

A week passed quickly. While waiting in a hotel lounge, I received a call from an unknown number. It was Jamie's headmaster. Jamie had been in a fight; a classmate had spread rumors about his parents' divorce and confronted him in front of the class.

I said, "It's not a rumor; I did divorce Jamie's father." Since I didn't have custody, I asked the headmaster to have his father handle the matter. The headmaster awkwardly explained that Jamie had only given my number, so I had to put the phone on speaker. In front of the injured student and his parents, I calmly told Jamie, "Hitting someone was wrong. When you're wrong, you admit it. Isn't that a principle you and your father always believed in?" I continued, "And, whether it's you or your father, please don't call me again. You need to understand that we have no relationship anymore."

I hung up, smiled and waved goodbye to my best friend Sophie Madden and her daughter Haylee, then silenced my phone.

When I was pregnant with Jamie, I'd dreamed of a daughter. But even though things didn't go as planned, I cherished and cared for him wholeheartedly. Before six, he'd plant small trees for cartoon cats that had died. After preschool, he'd secretly place a small red flower by my ear.

Later, Brock began frequently taking Jamie to the old house.

After turning eight, Jamie stopped crying and even smiling. He once despised his grandmother's red brick and black tile house, finding it inferior to the city's skyscrapers.