Almost thirty, a stay-at-home mom, palms facing up.

Out of shape, dry hair, fine lines around my eyes.

Husband cheated, forced me to divorce, and threw me out.

The labels above? They'd probably give anyone a headache.

Unfortunately, all of this happened to me.

Give up? Fall apart?

No. No way.

Watch me reboot my life!

My name is Lena White. I’m 28 years old, and I have a daughter named Clara Black, or Cary for short. She’s four years old and just started kindergarten this year, because her birthday falls late in the year.

At the end of September last year, I officially completed the divorce process with her father.

He gave me the house, but the condition was that our daughter would stay with him. At first, I refused, and we fought for a long time. In the end, I was exhausted, and he remained untouched.

I don’t know how many times I’ve cried in secret, even kneeling in front of him, screaming my pleas. But what did I get in return? His cruelty, again and again.

To force me to divorce, he did everything to hurt me. He called me a worthless parasite who couldn't support myself and only spent his money. He said I was so fat that I repulsed him, completely killing any desire he had. On Christmas, in front of his entire family, he threw my bowl to the ground, pointed to the door, and told me to leave. He shamelessly made phone calls to his mistress right in front of me...

He degraded me over and over, and truthfully, my heart had already turned cold. Sometimes, I really wanted to just leave, but looking at my little girl, still babbling as she learned to speak, I realized I had nowhere to go. I had no way to provide for her on my own.

I gritted my teeth, putting on a brave face. When he wouldn’t come home for dinner, I took it upon myself to bring him food every day. From shopping for groceries in the morning to cooking the meal, it was a full morning's work. By the time I reached his store, he’d only pay attention to the child, eating with his head down, not even glancing at me.

I’d stand there, out of breath, drenched in sweat. It was June, and with my weight, the walk to his shop had me sweating like crazy.

I told him to turn on the air conditioning, but he ignored me. Smiling, I moved a little closer and gently poked him, asking him again to turn on the air. He just scoffed, turning his head away, not wanting to look at me.

The staff inside were watching us, and I could feel my embarrassment mounting. I stepped aside, trying to fan my face with my hand, but it was useless—just hot air.

A customer arrived outside needing a car wash. It wasn’t a difficult task, and since everyone was eating, I figured I might as well do it. The sun was beating down, and the car was a black one, hot enough to fry an egg on.

I squatted in the heat, carefully washing the car, sweat pouring down my body, feeling like I was about to be roasted. I leaned against the shadow of the car for a moment to wipe my sweat.

Then, I saw a red Audi pull up at the door. The door swung open, and out stepped a woman in sunglasses, wearing sky-high heels, strutting into the shop. I could hear their laughter inside.

I was still crouched down, and she didn’t notice me.

I knew exactly who she was, though. Even though it had been years since I last saw her, I would never mistake her.

Sophia Green, Ethan Black’s high school crush, his first love that he never got.

So, she’s back? Suddenly, I understood why Ethan had been so insistent about divorcing me. Even though he never liked me much, I had figured we could make it work.

At that moment, I didn’t feel like washing cars anymore. It was too hot, and I wanted to get inside for some water. As soon as I stepped in, the cool air hit me, and the sweat on my skin evaporated instantly. My body temperature dropped several degrees.

I walked in holding the towel I used to dry the car, and immediately, the lively conversation stopped. Everyone turned to look at me. Sophia was holding my daughter, showering her with affection, making her laugh. She smiled brightly at me and said, "Your child is so cute."

Ethan, on the other hand, looked at me with a blank expression. It felt like he was silently scolding me for coming in at the wrong time.

In front of these two former school idols, I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Just then, my daughter started crying. I knew she was tired and wanted to sleep, so I hurried over to pick her up and comfort her.

On the way back, I walked slowly, wiping away my tears in secret. My heart ached, bitter and sour. By the time I reached the front door, I had made up my mind.

Perhaps seeing me suddenly agree to the divorce was a shock, so he hesitated for a moment, then handed me some extra money.

Of course, I didn’t refuse. After being a housewife for so many years, I deserved it.

The weather in Aster City in September was cold and dreary, with a chilling wind that made my face numb.

That morning, after we finalized the divorce at the City Hall, he drove us home, picked up our sleepy daughter from her little bed, and quickly left.

My mother-in-law, holding a baby bottle, followed behind him. She paused as she passed me, glanced at the dazed look on my face, seemed like she wanted to say something, but in the end, just sighed and left.

The sharp sound of the door slamming snapped me out of my stupor. I suddenly remembered something and rushed into the bedroom, stumbling as I looked at the empty crib, my mind going blank. I couldn’t remember what had just happened.

All that was running through my head was one thought: "Where’s my child?"

I lifted the sheets, even searched through the wardrobe, but there was nothing. I was frantic, shouting as I searched: "Where’s my child? Where did they go?"

I pulled at my hair in a frenzy, slapped my own face repeatedly until it was red and swollen. The sharp, burning pain cleared the fog in my mind for a moment. "Call the police! Call them now! They’ll help me find her!"

I grabbed my phone like it was a lifeline, crawling toward the living room.

I frantically searched again, eyes unfocused, my face smeared with a mix of tears and snot, my mind mechanically scanning left and right as I muttered to myself:

"Phone... phone..."

"Where’s my phone?"

Suddenly, I turned and saw my bag lying by the door where I had left it earlier. A surge of relief washed over me, and I staggered over to grab it. When I opened it, I found a small, dark red booklet. "What’s this? How did it end up in my bag?"

I pulled it out in confusion and held it up to the light—Divorce Certificate.

The three golden letters instantly caught my eye, as if triggering a switch, and everything that had just happened came rushing back in an instant.

It felt like all the energy drained out of me at once. I couldn’t stand, and collapsed to the floor.

Lying there, staring at the ceiling, everything from the past flashed before my eyes like a revolving lantern—my secret crush in high school, the unexpected reunion after graduation, getting pregnant and married, his reunion with his first love, me being kicked out. Even though these events were all part of my life, they felt so unreal...

I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too exhausted to care anymore. I lay on the floor and drifted into a heavy sleep.

Maybe the floor was too cold, or maybe I had been too worn out, but after that day, I fell seriously ill. I had a high fever that wouldn’t subside, my whole body felt weak, and the worst part was, I couldn’t even get up to drink water.

The fever made everything blurry, and the world around me seemed dark and dim. I couldn’t tell whether it was day or night. I didn’t know how long I lay there in a haze, but a phone call from my daughter finally brought some clarity. She told me she missed me and asked when I would come to pick her up.

Although she had been placed with Ethan, I still had visitation rights.

I told her I would come to see her in a few days and take her out to play. She happily agreed and told me an aunt had given her a beautiful new dress that she couldn’t wait to show me.

I smiled through my tears and said, “Okay.”

Before I agreed to the divorce with Ethan, I spent a long time preparing my daughter. When I first told her that Mommy and Daddy might be separating, she resisted fiercely, shaking her head like a rattle, waving her tiny hands and saying, "No, no!"

Too much of an explanation would have been beyond her understanding, so I started telling her that this way, she would get four presents every birthday.

I held up her little hand and counted the fingers for her, "Is four more than two?"

She nodded, and I continued, "When you go to school, you'll stay at Daddy’s house, and when school’s out, Mommy will come pick you up. Other kids only have one home, but Clara will have two!"

"Is two bigger than one?" I asked again.

She nodded once more, looking at me with a puzzled clarity. My heart clenched, but I kept smiling, telling her how great it would be for Mommy and Daddy to live apart.

Slowly, over time, she started to accept the idea.

I was bedridden for half a month before I recovered. I had no appetite, barely ate, and lost quite a bit of weight, which was an unintended bonus.

Since having the baby, my weight had hovered around 140 pounds. At 5'5", that was considered overweight.

In the first few years, I had tried to lose weight, but with the constant duties of being at home with the baby, my only social activity was pushing the stroller to the market or park.

Over time, I became numb to it all, not caring much about weight or appearance.

After I recovered, I went to my mother-in-law’s house to pick up my daughter. She hadn’t been apart from me since she was born, and although I had prepared myself mentally for this moment, it still tore at my heart. I took her to the playhouse for the day. When I dropped her off that evening, I didn’t go inside. I watched her go in from the doorway, then turned and left.

Ethan’s car was parked in the yard.

After returning, I focused my mind and put all my energy into my studies.

The graduate exams were coming up in late December, and time was tight. I had to get back to reviewing.

The decision to pursue my master’s degree was made during the time I agreed to the divorce. I had majored in a dead-end field in college. After graduation, I found a desk job at a company. But not long after, I got pregnant.

I could say that I had lived the first half of my life in confusion—without any plan for my future or career, everything was spent working for others.

Now, having ended up like this, it would be a lie to say I didn’t regret it.

At this point, the quickest way I could think of to change my situation was to return to school.

I chose one of the top-tier universities in the country, a prestigious teacher training institution. Becoming a teacher had been my childhood dream, but due to my failure in the college entrance exam and my lack of focus on studying at the time, I chose a nearby second-tier school and spent four years there without much thought.

In the past, I had no ambition for my academic or professional life. But now, if I’m going to take the exam, I want to aim for the best. No more aimless wandering—I’m going to restart my life!

When you focus entirely on one thing, time flies by. Before I knew it, it was December 21st, a Saturday. I went to take the national graduate entrance exam. I remember it snowed heavily that day, and just standing outside the lecture building for a short while was enough to turn my hair white from the cold.

The exam questions were difficult. My foundation was weak, and I had very little time to prepare. There were many questions I had seen in the books, but I just couldn’t answer them.

When the exam ended, I knew I hadn’t done well. But I didn’t overly blame myself. I had only truly gotten into the right mindset around October, and the preparation time was far too short. I considered it a trial run—next year, I’ll do better.

After the exam, I took a few days to relax, enjoying the beach, hiking, and indulging in local food before finally returning to my hometown.

I hadn’t called my parents in advance. When I arrived, they were in the kitchen cooking, and they were shocked to see me.

They stood up to greet me and, looking behind me, asked why Ethan and Clara hadn’t come with me.

Seeing my family completely broke the tough facade I had been maintaining for the past few days, and tears welled up in my eyes.

They anxiously asked what was wrong. I shook my head, and all the emotions I had held back poured out in a single sentence, “I just missed you.”

I couldn’t bring myself to tell them I had gotten a divorce, or that I hadn’t brought the child with me.

My parents are honest, hardworking farmers who’ve never had a serious argument with anyone. They always try to avoid conflict. I was afraid that telling them would make them uncomfortable.

Moreover, in our rural area, a divorced woman brings shame to her family. Everyone knew I had married into the big city, and after only a few years, I was already a discarded wife. Who knows what kind of gossip would spread around the village?

I made up an excuse that the child had to attend a training class, and that Ethan was busy at the store. I managed to dodge the topic.