Too Late Mr. Sterling

Chapter 8

Elowen's POV

Alistair did not deserve to be at Maisie's funeral. After what he had done, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing him standing beside her grave and pretending to be a grieving father. He had not been there when she needed him most, so I decided he would not be there when I said goodbye to her either.

I buried her the next morning.

There was no big funeral, no crowd of people, and no speeches. I didn't want strangers standing around her grave, saying things about my daughter when they barely knew her. I took her to a quiet cemetery outside the city, where there was a small garden with flowers and trees. It was peaceful there, and I knew Maisie would have liked it because she always loved being outside.

I stood beside her grave for a long time before they lowered the coffin. My hands were shaking as I held her favourite blanket, the same one she used whenever she was cold or scared. I placed it inside the coffin with her, along with her favourite stuffed unicorn. She carried that little toy everywhere when she was younger, and sometimes she would even take it into the bathroom whenever I let her.

I touched her forehead one last time before the coffin was closed. Her skin was cold, and the moment I realised I would never feel her warmth again, something inside me broke all over again.

"Goodbye, my baby," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. "Mommy loves you."

I watched as they covered her grave with earth, and I stood there until there was nothing left for me to do. I didn't know how long I stayed after everyone else had gone. The sun had already started going down by the time I finally turned around and walked back to the house.

When I stepped inside, the place no longer felt like home. It felt like a building I had never lived in before. Everything was too quiet. There were no toys on the floor, no little shoes lying in the hallway, and no sound coming from Maisie's room. There was no singing, no laughter, and no small voice calling my name from upstairs.

I stood in the living room for several seconds before my legs gave out. I dropped to my knees and stared at the floor, but I couldn't cry anymore. My heart felt completely empty, as if someone had taken everything inside me and left nothing behind.

After a while, I reached for the divorce papers I had prepared days earlier. My hands shook as I picked up the pen, but I didn't hesitate. I signed every page without reading a single word because there was nothing left to discuss. I had spent years trying to save my marriage, trying to make Alistair see me, and trying to convince myself that things would eventually become better.

They never did.

As I signed the final page, memories of everything I had endured came rushing back. I remembered the times I had waited for him to come home, the nights I had cried alone, and all the sacrifices I had made for a man who had never truly valued me. I remembered how many times I had forgiven him because I believed our family was more important than my pride.

Now I understood that I had been wasting my life.

When I finished signing the papers, I placed them on the table and wrote a short note before leaving.

"Congratulations, Alistair. You finally got what you wanted."

I picked up my phone and checked it before going upstairs. There wasn't a single missed call from him. There wasn't even a message asking about Maisie or asking if she had survived. He hadn't called me once since we left the hospital, and he hadn't come home either.

I stared at the empty screen for a few seconds before letting out a bitter laugh.

Of course he hadn't called.

Why would he?

Maisie had never been important enough for him to worry about her, and now that she was gone, I was sure he was still more concerned about Ottilie and whatever was happening in her life.

I put my phone away and walked upstairs.

I entered Maisie's room last because I knew I wouldn't have the strength to leave once I stepped inside.

Everything was exactly as she had left it.

Her little shoes were still under the bed, and her favourite colouring book was open on the desk. One of the pages was half-coloured, with crayons scattered around it. I walked closer and looked at the picture.

It was a drawing of a family.

There were three people in it, a mother, a father, and a little girl.

I ran my fingers over the page, and a weak smile appeared on my lips as tears filled my eyes. Maisie's handwriting was messy, but I could still read the names she had written above each person.

Mommy.

Daddy.

Me.

The sight of those three words broke something inside me.

I remembered sitting beside her at that same desk only a few days earlier while she swung her little legs under the chair and coloured the picture with complete concentration. She had suddenly looked up at me with a bright smile and held the drawing out for me to see.

"Do you think Daddy will like it?" she had asked.

"I think he will," I had replied, even though somewhere inside me, I already knew he probably wouldn't even look at it.

Maisie had smiled proudly and gone back to colouring.

"I'm going to give it to him after the company dinner," she had said. "Maybe then he'll like me more."

I had stopped breathing for a moment when I heard those words.

"What do you mean, like you more?" I had asked gently.

Her smile had faded a little as she looked down at the drawing. "He likes Ottilie more. But maybe if I give him this, he'll like me too. I want him to smile at me the way he smiles at her."

I hadn't known what to say.

How could I explain to a little girl that she didn't have to earn her father's love? How could I tell her that nothing she drew, said, or did could force a man to give her the love she deserved?

She had only been a child, yet she had already started believing that she wasn't good enough for her own father.

I covered my mouth as a sob escaped me.

It should have been me.

Not her.

Maisie was just a little girl. She deserved to grow up, make mistakes, fall in love, build a career, travel, laugh with her friends, and become whatever she wanted to be. She deserved a father who would protect her and make her feel loved.

Instead, she died believing she had to earn his love with crayons and drawings.

I couldn't hold myself up anymore. I collapsed onto her bed and pulled her pillow against my chest. It still carried the faint smell of her shampoo, and I pressed my face into it as tears finally came.

"Maisie," I whispered, holding the pillow tighter. "I don't know how to live without you. I don't know who I am without you."

I stayed there for hours, crying until my eyes hurt and my body became too tired to move.

When I finally stood up, I looked around her room one last time. I folded the half-coloured picture carefully and placed it inside my bag. I took her second favourite blanket too, because I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind.

I didn't take anything else.

One bag of clothes, her drawing, and her blanket were enough.

I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

I knew I would never enter it again.

I walked downstairs without looking back. I left the house carrying the little I had, knowing that the life I had built with Alistair was over.

For the first time, I wasn't leaving because I was angry.

I was leaving because there was nothing left for me there.

I looked at the house one final time before walking away.

"Happy birthday, Maisie," I whispered, even though she wasn't there to hear me.

Then I left.