My daughter has a sudden allergic reaction, and my husband, an expert in these things, is the only one who can save her.

I call him at this critical juncture, but his childhood sweetheart is the one who answers. "Clinton is busy. He wants me to tell you not to call him if it's not important."

There's no time for me to get mad. I say anxiously, "Tell him to come to the hospital now. Ivy has had an allergic reaction and is waiting for him to save her."

Clinton Reeves says impatiently, "Gemma and I are just watching a soccer match. Do you have to joke around with Ivy's life? I'm so disappointed in you."

Later, Ivy dies in the hospital, her body covered in rashes. I wipe my tears and call Clinton once more. I say icily, "Let's get a divorce."

The first thing I hear is his and Gemma Walken's laughter. After a while, he says, "Sure, but Ivy is mine."

"Sweetheart, hold on just a little longer. Daddy will be here soon," I said as I clutched my daughter, Ivy Reeves' hand tightly.

Watching her breathing grow more labored, I couldn't stand it any longer and dialed Clinton Reeves' number again. The phone rang for a long time, and my hope dwindled with every second.

Just when I was about to give up, the call connected, and Clinton's irritated voice came through, "What now? Can't you just have a doctor give Ivy some medicine? Why do I have to come back?"

"Clinton, Ivy's condition is serious! The doctors won't administer anything without you here. You're the only one who can help her," I shouted out of frustration.

In the background, I could hear the roar of a crowd and cheers for a goal.

Clinton's tone turned placating as he said to someone, "Relax. Your favorite player's about to hit the field. Let me finish this call."

Then, his voice turned cold when he spoke to me, "I'm well aware of Ivy's condition. Stop using her as an excuse to drag me back. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to cut you off."

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

Ivy's fragile voice pulled me back. "Mommy, I don't want to die. Is Daddy not coming?"

I fought back tears and forced a smile to comfort her, saying, "No, sweetheart. Daddy loves you the most. He'll be here. Just hold on a bit longer."

Turning to Dr. Marlon, I pleaded desperately, "Please, Dr. Marlon, think of something."

He sighed and shook his head helplessly. "I've done all I can. If Dr. Reeves were here, he'd know what to do. Let me try calling him again."

I nodded and stared at Dr. Marlon expectantly. However, all of our hopes were dashed when the automatic voice said, "This number is no longer reachable."

Before I knew it, the heart monitor beeped sharply, then fell into a flat line.

"Quick! Get the defibrillator!" Dr. Marlon commanded.

The sight of Ivy's body covered in red rashes pierced my heart like a knife.

I was pushed aside by the medical team. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor with tears blurring my vision.

I begged silently to anyone listening, "Please, don't take Ivy. She's just a child."

But when I saw the white sheet being drawn over her tiny body, my world shattered.

Throwing myself over Ivy's still form, I wailed, "No! She's not gone! Look! Her hands are still warm!"

A nurse pulled me back. "Mrs. Reeves, my condolences. Let her go in peace."

Ivy's death crushed me in ways I couldn't describe.

I forced myself to handle her funeral arrangements, while Clinton was nowhere to be found. I had even forgotten about him as I numbly wiped Ivy's urn over and over again.

…

Three days later, Clinton finally returned. I gave him a hollow glance and said nothing.

Clinton frowned in annoyance. "What's with the sour face? Here's a gift for you and Ivy. Stop sulking."

I looked at the box he held out, only to find yet another identical doll.

Ivy had once grumbled to me, "Mommy, Daddy bought me three of these already! I don't even like them. He doesn't care about me at all."

I had smiled as I ruffled her hair and made excuses for Clinton.

"He's just really busy with work. He takes care of so many patients every day, and it must be exhausting for him. Let's not hold this against him, okay? I promise I'll scold him when he gets back and make him apologize. Then, he'll get you something you like next time."

Ivy had scrunched her face in frustration. "Forget it. Daddy's a superhero, so I won't get mad at him. Mommy, make sure you save him some food, okay? He might be hungry after work."

My heart had ached at Ivy's thoughtfulness. I'd kissed her cheek gently and said, "Alright."

Ivy had always seen her father as a hero. She could never bring herself to blame him.

But Clinton wasn't a hero. He was too busy spending time with his childhood sweetheart.

I had believed my silence and sacrifices could hold our family together, but I was wrong. And because of a man like him, my daughter had lost her life.

I turned to Clinton and uttered curtly, "No need. Ivy and I don't want it anymore. We're getting a divorce. Get out."

Clinton's expression darkened. "Suzy, my patience is limited. If you push me, don't regret it later."

Without a word, I placed Ivy's urn in its resting place. Then, I threw his so-called gift into the trash.

"Have you lost your mind? Why the hell did you throw away the gift I bought for Ivy?" he snapped, grabbing my wrist.

I bellowed, "Ivy's gone! And now, you're pretending to care?!"

Yanking off my wedding ring, I threw it at him and continued, "Isn't there another game with Gemma you'd rather watch? Go! Stay as long as you want. No one will disturb you anymore."

I stared at Clinton's face, and my disgust only deepened.

How blind and foolish had I been? How could I ever have believed I would be able to warm the heart of someone who didn't even have one in the first place?

Back in college, I was harassed and followed by a group of thugs. Clinton had saved me that night, even getting injured in the process.

Out of guilt, I had taken care of him for two months as he recovered. Somewhere along the way, I'd fallen in love with him without realizing it.

But at that time, his heart had belonged to Gemma Walken.

Clinton had rejected me more than once. He would say, "Suzy, helping you was my choice. If it had been any other girl that night, I'd have done the same thing."

I would shake my head and say tearfully, "Clinton, I love you. I'm certain it's not out of guilt."

He'd wiped away my tears. "Give me some time. I need to figure out how I feel about us."

I had been so desperate for his love that I eagerly agreed. But not long after, I'd received news that Clinton and Gemma had gotten together.

Heartbroken, I'd swallowed my feelings and returned to being just friends.

I thought we'd have no more intersections in life.

Then, one night, Clinton had shown up drunk outside my dorm, shouting my name, "Suzy, I was wrong! Gemma never loved me. She left me to go abroad with someone else."

That night had changed everything between us.

Later, Clinton had made a grand gesture to confess his feelings and promised we'd marry after graduation. Two years later, we had a lavish wedding and a beautiful baby girl.

At first, Clinton had been learning how to be a good husband and father. He'd devoted every spare moment to Ivy—listening to her babbling and watching her take her first steps.

When Ivy called him "Daddy" for the first time, he had cried tears of joy.

Clinton would treat Ivy's crude crayon drawing of our family like a masterpiece and proudly display it.

Once, they were molding clay figures together, and Ivy had asked giddily, "Daddy, look! I made our family of three. Do you like it?"

Clinton had pulled me into a hug and smiled at her. "It's perfect, sweetheart. You're amazing."

I'd watched them with a smile and felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

However, everything had changed when Gemma returned to the country.

Clinton stopped prioritizing us. He was rarely home, often missing my birthday and even forgetting Ivy's.

One time, Ivy had sat at the dining table, brimming with excitement as she waited for him. Yet, Clinton never came.

She clung to my arm and whined sadly, "Mommy, why didn't Daddy celebrate my birthday? He hasn't played with me or read me a bedtime story in so long. He doesn't pick me up from school anymore. Did I do something wrong? Is Daddy mad at me?"

Distressed, I hugged her tightly and tried to cover for Clinton.

"No, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong. Daddy's just… He's been really busy with work. How about this? When he's free, we'll all go to the aquarium together. Would you like that?"

But when the day came to visit the aquarium, Clinton didn't show up.

Gemma had twisted her ankle on the stairs, and he'd left Ivy and me behind to rush to her side. It wasn't until the following night that he came home with a doll for Ivy as an apology.

"Daddy was wrong yesterday. Can you forgive me, Ivy?"

All it took for Clinton was handing her a doll, and Ivy's anger had melted away in an instant. "Okay! But you can't leave Mommy and me again! If you do, I'll ignore you forever."

Clinton had laughed and promised, but he continued to break his word.

Now, as I thought of Ivy's desperate will to live and how she'd waited for him until her last breath, my hatred for Clinton grew unbearable.

He didn't deserve to be a father.

Clinton glared at me and demanded sullenly, "What do you mean Ivy's gone? How many times have I told you not to joke about her?"

I shoved him and yelled, "A joke? You think I'm you, Clinton? Someone like you doesn't deserve to be a father. You weren't there when Ivy needed you. From now on, you don't need to be here anymore!"

His face turned grim. "If you want a divorce, fine. But Ivy stays with me."

I scoffed and said, "Then, go talk to Ivy about it yourself—six feet under."

Clinton snapped, "Suzy, don't you dare say one more bad word about her!" He then cast a glance at the urn and sneered. "You really went all out for this charade, huh?"

I let out a cold chuckle and retorted, "If you think I'm bluffing, why don't you check for yourself? Go on, Clinton, or are you scared?"

His eyes widened in anger. "Scared? Don't be ridiculous, Suzy. Stop playing games!"

Just as he reached for the urn, his phone rang. When he saw the caller ID, he quickly picked up. "Don't cry, Gemma. I'll be right there."

Before leaving, Clinton shot me a look of disgust. "Look at you—pathetic. Lying without a second thought. When I get back, I expect you to reflect on your behavior."

I almost laughed at the absurdity. Once, his words might have sent me spiraling into self-doubt.

But now, who cared what he thought?

After spending the day choosing Ivy's burial site, I returned home only to find an unwelcome guest.

I asked flatly, "Why did you bring her here?"

Gemma's eyes were red-rimmed as she said, "Suzy, it's not Clinton's fault. He only took me to watch the soccer match to cheer me up. I didn't know Ivy would have an allergic reaction. It's my fault. Please, just tell Clinton where Ivy is. He's worried sick."

I walked past them and replied, "What does that have to do with me?"

Cradling Ivy's urn, I pressed a soft kiss to it before starting to pack up her belongings.

"Stop this nonsense, Suzy!" Clinton's anger erupted as he snatched the urn from my hands and threw it at me. "I've had enough of your theatrics! Why are you bringing this cursed thing into the house?"

The urn shattered, scattering Ivy's ashes across the floor. Her black-and-white photo fell out as well.

Clinton's face twisted with fury as he took a step forward, his foot grinding into the ashes. "Apologize to Gemma right now, and I'll overlook your behavior these past few days."

My eyes burned with rage. "Dream on, Clinton! You're not fit to call yourself Ivy's father. Get your foot off her. Now!"

"You've gone insane, Suzy. Maybe this will teach you a lesson!"

He shoved me aside and began stomping on the ashes, yelling as he did, "How dare you curse Ivy? You think this nonsense will work on me?"'

Just as he reached down to pick up Ivy's photo, he received a call from his colleague. "Clinton, my condolences. Stay home and take care of Suzy. I've already arranged leave from the hospital for you."

Clinton froze momentarily. "Nick, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I need condolences?"

Nick Henderson paused, then added, "I know Ivy's passing is hard on you, but you have to face it."