Chapter 8
“If you still don’t believe it, I can have someone retrieve the surveillance footage from that day for
you to see…”
In the midst of speaking, Brock actually took out his phone, preparing to make a call to the hotel
staff.
However, I expressed my indifference.
“No need. It doesn’t matter.” “What did you say?”
said, it’s none of my business how you are with Ivy. You don’t need to explain these things to me,
because I don’t care at all.” I didn’t deceive Brock.
Actually, the divorce settlement that I had prepared was already printed before witnessing him
enter the hotel with Ivy.
I had originally planned to bring up the topic of divorce with him after we had celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary.
The plan just couldn’t keep up with the changes. Brock stared at me blankly for a while,
stammering as he spoke.
“Important, Maliyah, this is important. You couldn’t accuse me…”
Brock himself knew deep down whether he was wronged or not.
However, seeing that I was unwilling to engage with him and was preparing to leave, the man
stubbornly held onto my wrist.
“Maliyah, I truly know I was wrong. I was on my way…‘
At this point, a hint of struggle flickered in Brock’s eyes, and then he continued to speak.
“Ivy was fired.”
“Maliyah, you know my personality. Until now, I have never begged anyone, not even my parents.”
But today, standing here, I beg you, I beg you to give me one last chance to redeem myself.
“We don’t get divorced, okay?” I said calmly while looking into Brock’s pleading eyes.
“Brock, I really didn’t love you anymore.”
So, let’s stop here.
She waved away the man’s hand, which had become weak due to a momentary lapse of
consciousness.
I passed by him and walked out of the room.
Chapter 8
Outside the room, there stood a gloomy teenager who seemed to be carved out of the same mold as Brock. He foolishly stared at Mr. Bunny in my hands, and before long, his eyes turned red.
He pointed at Mr. Bunny and spoke.
“This was sewn by my grandmother, and I thought I had accidentally lost it.”
Upon hearing his words, I shook my head at him.
“It wasn’t an accident. Jamie, this is the one you threw into the trash can when you were eight years old.” Mr. Bunny was hand–sewn by my mother, enduring the pain of cancer, stitch by stitch, as a birthday gift for Jamie when he turned three. When Jamie was afraid to sleep alone as a child, as
ong as Mr. Bunny was there, he could transform into a brave little warrior.
Five–year–old Jamie would cry and beg his mother to quickly save poor Mr. Bunny because cotton was leaking from his ears.
But eight–year–old Jamie could behave badly because of Ivy’s words, who just returned to meet her
family.
She said, “Foreign boys of the same age as you would not have liked such a childish doll.”
Due to that, he sneakily tore Mr. Bunny apart, innocently throwing the doll to the bottom of the
trash can.
In order to find Mr. Bunny, I had to run like a madman to all the nearby garbage disposal plants.
One after another, I opened all the garbage bags in front of me, feeling nauseous and trembling as I flipped through them for the entire afternoon.
Finally, I managed to find my mother’s broken belongings. That afternoon, I couldn’t control my emotions and, with red eyes, I slapped Jamie’s bottom with my hand, punishing him to stand in the corner for ten minutes. Since then, Jamie never called me mom again.
Years later, Jamie, with red eyes, looked at Mr. Bunny, whom he had once abandoned, and said to me with a choked voice.
“Mom, this was given to me by grandma, please give it back to me. I have been having trouble sleeping lately, and I really need it…”
