And in the middle of it all sat a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than five years old, with big brown eyes and bouncy curls tied with pink ribbons. She looked up at me with the most innocent smile.
“Hi!” she chirped. “Are you the evil witch?”
My heart stopped. “WHAT??”
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Daddy said I have to be super quiet or the evil witch will be mad. But you don’t look mad. You look pretty!”
I turned slowly to face Matt, who stood in the doorway, stunned.
“Matt, who is she?”
He couldn’t meet my eyes. “Her name’s Ivy. She’s… she’s my daughter.”
My heart thudded in my chest. “YOUR DAUGHTER??”
“With someone else. A woman I work with.”
I stared at him, uncomprehending. “You have a child? With someone else? How could you?”
“It… it happened before some years,” he stammered. “A fling with Sasha from accounting. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Didn’t mean anything? You have a child!”
Ivy looked between us, her smile fading.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose you,” Matt reasoned. “But I’ve been helping them out. Financially, you know. Here and there.”
Suddenly, all those unexplained expenses made sense. The extra credit card, the cash withdrawals, and the “work lunches” that seemed to cost a fortune.
“You’ve been supporting another family with money I earned?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like, Matt? Please explain to me why you’ve been hiding your child in our guest room, calling me an ‘evil witch,’ while I’ve been killing myself to make enough money so we could have a baby together.”
His mouth opened, then closed. Whatever explanation he had died on his lips.
I turned away from him and sat down on the floor beside Ivy, who was watching us with wide, uncertain eyes.
“Hi, Ivy,” I said, forcing a gentle tone. “I’m Carol. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Wanna play blocks with me?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’d love to.”
For 10 minutes, I built towers with this innocent child while Matt stood watching, speechless. She was sweet, bright, and none of this was her fault.
Finally, I stood up. “I’m going to sleep in our room tonight,” I told Matt calmly. “You can take the couch. And tomorrow morning, you will take Ivy home to her mother.”
“Carol..?”
“Tomorrow. We’ll talk after that.”
I didn’t sleep that night. How could I? I sat awake, reliving every moment of our marriage, wondering what else had been a lie.
In the morning, I heard Matt moving around early, gathering Ivy’s things. I stayed in the bedroom until I heard the front door close.
Then I got to work.
I called in sick, then called a locksmith. While waiting, I packed every single item that belonged to Matt into boxes. Clothes, shoes, gaming equipment… everything. By the time he returned two hours later, the boxes were stacked neatly on the porch, and the locks had been changed.
A manila envelope sat on top of the largest box. Inside were divorce papers, already signed by me. My friend Jenna, who happens to be a lawyer, had the paperwork ready within hours after I texted her the previous night. Guess it helps to have the right people in your corner.
Matt pulled into the driveway and got out slowly, staring at the boxes, then at me standing in the doorway.
“Carol, please,” he begged, “we need to talk about this.”
“I’ve been talking for years, Matt. Talking and working and trying… while you’ve been living a double life.”
“It’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like? Tell me what possible explanation could make this okay.”
He looked down. “I was scared. Scared of being a dad, scared of failing. When Sasha told me she was pregnant, I panicked. I wasn’t ready. But then when I met Ivy… I fell in love with her. And I’ve been trying to be there for her without losing you.”
“By hiding her? By making her believe I was some kind of a monster?”
“I never meant for it to go this far. Please, give me another chance.”
“You know what the worst part is? It’s not even the affair or the secret child. It’s that while I was desperately trying to start a family with you, you already had one you were hiding from me.”
His face crumpled.
“The papers are pretty straightforward. I’m not trying to take everything. I just want out. This is my house.”
“What am I supposed to do now? Where will I go?”
For the first time in years, I answered honestly: “That’s not my problem anymore!”
I closed the door, ignoring his knocks, calls, and texts. In the quiet of the house that had once held so many dreams, I finally allowed myself to cry… not for the man I had lost, but for the time I had wasted loving someone who never deserved it.
Sometimes you have to drown a little before you remember how to swim. And as I sat there surrounded by the echoes of our failed marriage, I made myself a promise: from now on, I would only ever swim toward the things that truly deserved my heart.
