Harry had always disdained Leo for being 'sick'. As if it was his fault to be diagnosed with diabetes at such a young age.

But, the reason why Leo was born diabetic was Harry himself, and part of me for being too blind in his love.

I still remember the day I was working as a waitress in the five star restaurant of our city when a millionaire had booked the whole table, decorated the whole restaurant with red and black balloons.

Not just that, he barged in the restaurant's kitchen and prepared a cake himself– to propose his girlfriend.

But, the moment that should have come out romantic and pleasing turned into humiliation and joke as he played the voice message of his girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I find my love in Jayden. We are shifting to my London's apartment that you gifted me last year."

"Thanks for being with me all these years. You will always be in my heart just like a good old friend."

The world tilted for him, for us as well. That's when I stepped up. I watched the cake I had seen him preparing with utmost love and care.

"If you don't mind, Sir, can I keep this cake?" I asked,

"Why?" He looked up at me, his eyes filled with surprise. He, for sure, had not expected this. I should have been whispering and snickering like all the other waitress.

But, here I was, showing no remorse at all.

"You are definitely going to dump this cake, and I can't bear the thought of such a beautiful cake to be dump. Why not letting me eat then?" I said, I was a foodie back then.

I saw his pupils shrieking for a moment before he finally said, "Fine, take it."

I didn't mind people's eyes at me. I simply sat before him and ate the cake while he kept watching me until I finished the cake.

Only then did he ask, "What's your name?"

"Darcy..." I said.

That's how we met and soon get married. He loved making cakes and cookies for me and I appreciated his gesture.

Even when I was pregnant and doctor's adviced to reduce sugar intake, he didn't stop.

And, watching him putting so much effort in preparing those sweets for me, I didn't have the heart to refuse him.

I always thought he loved making cakes for me because it reminded him the day we first met which made everything romantic and memorable.

It was only when his first love returned to his life that I realise he never made those cakes for me in the memories of our first meeting, but because Claire loved cakes and cookies.

He even had courses just to make cakes for Claire himself. He just made those cakes for me because he was used to doing those stuff for Claire.

And, I was just a substitute for him to fill his empty heart, someone who could distract his mind until his true love comes back to him, a tool to keep himself busy.

Every "I love you" Harry had whispered felt like a counterfeit coin. Every late-night tray of cookies he brought to my bedside during my third trimester, a slow poison for my son—the sweets that had spiked my blood sugar and likely triggered Leo’s condition—wasn't a gesture of care for me. It was a rehearsal for a woman who wasn't there.

I stroked Leo's hair for one last time before I finally let him go.

I rushed back home to prepare for Leo's funeral, my mind still racing through the past five years.

When I arrived home, Harry was having breakfast with Claire and Jake.

Claire sat before him and Jake in between them. Harry was peeling an apple for Jake while Claire was wiping off his lips. A picture perfect family portrait.

I ignored them and walked past the dining hall. However, my legs paused in mid-stride as Harry's voice echoed through my ears.

"How is that lad doing?"

He finally asked, after abandoning him for his mistress's son.

My hands were clenched, eyes turned red in rage as I turned back, "What do you think would have come out of our son after you abandoned him, Harry?"

"Stop being so dramatic and just tell me how is he doing." He spat, "Do you think it's only you who cares about him?"

"So, you care?" I smirked as I walked closer to him. "If you really cared about him, you wouldn't have been here enjoying your breakfast while you son breathed his last."

Harry froze at his place. His face paled as he stared me in disbelief,"Wh-What did you say?"

The tears that I had barely suppressed a moment ago, streamed down my cheeks as I declared."My son, Leo... He is gone, Harry."

The response that followed my declaration was not the grieving kind. It was sharp, brittle, imprinted on my cheeks.

He slapped me, a cynical smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Darcy. To lie about our son's life just to get a reaction? It’s pathetic."

"I’m not lying," I barked, my voice cracking like dry parchment. "His funeral is scheduled at evening. You can meet him for one last time, Harry."

"Shut up!" He groaned, "Just shut up, Darcy."

Claire placed a delicate hand on Harry’s forearm, her eyes wide with manufactured concern. "Darcy, honey, I know you’re stressed, but using Leo like this... it’s a bit much, don’t you think? Jake is getting scared."

Jake, the boy who wasn't mine, looked up from his pancakes with a confused pout. Harry immediately softened, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair, the same way he used to do to Leo before he decided Leo was 'too sickly' to be his pride.

"Don't worry, son," Harry said to Jake, his voice warm and protective. Then, he turned to me, his eyes turning into chips of ice.

"We’re leaving. Claire and I promised Jake a trip to the zoo today, and I won’t have you ruining it with your dark fantasies."

He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and ushered them toward the door.

"Harry, wait!" I lunged for his sleeve, but he shook me off as if I were a stray dog.

"Enough!" he barked. "If Leo is 'gone,' then I guess I don't have to worry about the medical bills anymore, do I? See you tonight. Try to have dinner ready."

The door slammed shut. The sound echoed through the cavernous house, a finality that felt like a nail being driven into a coffin.

***

I attend Leo's funeral alone.There were no crowds, no flowers from Harry, no "warm and protective" father to say goodbye. Just a grieving mother and the cold wind.

I didn't cry. My tears had been replaced by a hollow, crystalline clarity. When they handed me the urn, I held it against my chest, the only precious thing that mattered to me now.

However, I did not expect to bump into Harry before I could even reach home.

Harry’s face darkened the moment he saw me in black dress outside the cemetery. "Still playing the part, I see," he sneered, slamming the car door. "Did you enjoy your afternoon of theater?"

Claire tilted her head, her voice a sugary needle. "Darcy, you look exhausted. What is that you’re holding so tightly? A new prop?"

"It’s Leo," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "His ashes. I’m taking him home."

Harry’s face contorted with a sudden, violent rage.

"I told you to stop this!" he roared, lunging forward.

My hands moved on my instincts as I pulled my hands backward, protecting the urn at any cost.

But, Harry, driven by rage and annoyance, snatched the urn from my hands.

"Harry, no!" I screamed, but it was too late.

With a cynical laugh, Harry threw the urn against the stone walkway. The ceramic shattered into a thousand jagged teeth, and a cloud of grey dust scattered into the wind, coating the hem of Harry’s polished shoes.

"There," he breathed, dusting off his hands as if he’d finished a chore. "The 'fantasy' is over. Now, listen to me carefully. Claire’s birthday party is this Saturday. Since you’ve spent the day wasting time, your punishment is to organize the entire event. Every detail. If it’s anything less than perfect, don't bother coming home."

Claire smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "A garden theme would be lovely, Darcy. Try not to be such a downer."

With that, they walked away, laughing as they stepped over the remains of Leo, my innocent child.

I knelt on the cold pavement. I desperately tried to gather the ashes. But, they were all gone, carried away by the breeze.

Instead, I picked up a single sharp shard of the ceramic and squeezed it until my palm bled.

"Leo... I'm sorry. Mama could not protect you." I said clutching the ceramic to my chest.

I sat on the sideways of the road for a long while, talking and caressing the ceramic, the only thing that was remained of Leo.

Then, I dialed the number of my lawyer.

"Marcus?" I said, my voice steady and cold. "It’s Darcy. Is the paperwork ready?"

"It’s been ready for weeks, Darcy," the lawyer replied softly. "Are you sure?"

"I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want the divorce papers served at the height of the party this Saturday. Deliver them directly to Harry in front of everyone. And Marcus? Make sure the clause about the 'medical neglect' evidence is on the front page."

With that I ended the call.

Harry thinks he can get away with forcing my child to his death, but he is wrong. He has to pay for every pain, every suffering he has caused Leo.

I might have failed in protecting my child, but I will definitely not fail in avenging his death.

The countdown of Harry's downfall begins from here.

Harry did not return home that night. My phone buzzed with a notification. A text from him.

[Claire want me to take him see the snow fall with Jake. Don't wait for me. I'll be out of city for the whole week and will be returning on Claire's B'day.]

[I hope you don't disappoint me this time. Just arrange the banquet as Claire wishes. If you obey, I'll take you and Leo to visit local zoo next time.]

That was the price he just offered me and his already dead son, a local zoo visit for being 'obedient' to him. For watching him take his mistress and her son to a foreign trip to watch snowfall, something Leo always wanted to do with his father.

The phone was clenched tightly in my hand and I wanted to crush it into a million pieces. But, I held my anger back and simply texted [Okay.]

After replying Harry, I blocked his number, took the sim card off my phone and threw it away.

With a small luggage in my hand, a cardboard filled with Leo's memories and a pendant of ceramic shard hanging on my neck, I stepped out of what was supposed to be our home.

Outside the house, the cab driver was waiting for me. He dropped me at the airport where a private jet was waiting for me.

A man dressed in black suit walked up to me, lowered his head as he nodded, " Miss, your chauffeur is ready."