CEO’s Regret: Chasing my Ex-wife Back

“Noah! You shouldn’t eat that much chocolate before school!” I reached for the chocolate wrapper lying on the coffee table, but Noah snatched it away before I could touch it, his little fingers clutching it tightly against his chest as if I were trying to steal something precious. “No! It’s mine! Aunt Rita gave it to me!” “My sweetheart,” I said gently, trying to keep my voice calm, “you’ve already eaten two pieces. Your stomach is going to hurt, and you haven’t even had breakfast yet…” “I don’t care!” His face turned bright red, and his voice rose into that sharp tone I had learned to recognize—the one that always came before tears. He jumped off the couch and backed away from me as if I were the enemy. “You ruin everything all the time! I hate you!” The words hit me like a slap. I froze beside the couch, my hand still outstretched, my chest tightening as I stared at my six-year-old son. His eyes weren’t just angry… they were filled with resentment, as though I had done something unforgivable. “Noah,” I whispered, forcing myself not to break down, “I’m your mother. I’m only trying to—” “I hate you! I hate you!” Tears streamed down his face as he threw the wrapper at me. It bounced off my knee and fell onto the rug. I stood frozen for half a second—long enough for Noah to run past me. He went straight to Daniel, my husband. “She’s mean, Daddy!” he cried loudly, clinging to his father’s leg and hiding behind him as if I were something to fear. “She wants to take away the chocolate Aunt Rita gave me!” Daniel bent down and placed a hand on Noah’s head, gently stroking his hair. His voice was calm and soothing. “It’s okay,” he murmured into his ear. “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright?” “Oh baby, come here…” I stepped closer, trying to pull him into my arms and comfort him. “What is wrong with you?” Daniel asked sharply. “Don’t you dare take another step. It’s just chocolate. Why are you acting so possessive and dramatic?” Possessive? Dramatic? “But I wasn’t…” I said softly. “I just don’t want him eating sweets this early. I was only trying to—” “You’re just jealous,” Daniel cut in before I could finish. “That’s what this is really about.” The look in his eyes was filled with disgust and anger. I couldn’t bear to keep looking at him because all it did was pierce my heart beyond words. My throat tightened, and I stood there motionless. “I’m his mother,” I finally managed to say. “I was only worried about his health.” “You are his mother,” he interrupted. “Just his mother. Leave him alone. If he says he wants chocolate for breakfast, then let him have it.” Noah turned his face away from me and pressed himself closer to Daniel. The most painful part was that none of my explanations ever mattered. Nothing I said would ever make them believe me or treat me better. My husband didn’t care. I was nothing to him. When did a mother’s love become a crime? The thought flooded my mind, and my eyes filled with tears I struggled to hold back. “Thanks, Daddy! You’re the best in the whole world,” Noah said excitedly as Daniel got him ready to leave for school. I had never seen my son so happy. I had prepared him for school for years, and yet I had never received a single word of praise or affection. I let out a silent sigh and stood there, watching them leave. As they headed out, Noah suddenly looked up at his father, his mood completely changed. “Daddy,” he asked eagerly, “is Aunt Rita coming to see us today?” My heart skipped a beat. My eyes met my husband’s, and he paused. He didn’t say no, and he didn’t say yes either. The silence spoke louder than words ever could. The door closed behind them, the sound echoing throughout the house. Everything felt empty, but my life felt even emptier. What else was there to live for? They both hated me and wanted nothing to do with me… even my own baby. At that moment, it felt as though my world was collapsing. I remained standing there long after their footsteps faded away. When the silence became unbearable, I turned around and collapsed onto the couch. I stayed there, my eyes drifting toward every corner of the house. It was over for me. Hot tears streamed freely down my face—the same tears I had managed to hold back when my own child looked at me like I was a stranger. I cried. “I never should have agreed to be here in the first place,” I sobbed weakly. From the very beginning, it had never been about love. It was an arrangement—a marriage of convenience built on interest and convenience. After giving birth to my son, Noah, he became everything I needed to love myself again. He was the only thing I could hold onto in my marriage with Daniel. And still, I had done everything possible to make it work. I swallowed my pride, reshaped myself, gave up my dreams, and endured indifference and humiliation just to keep the peace and hold my family together. “I gave everything,” I sobbed as I helplessly slid to the floor. “I have nothing left. And somehow, it’s still not enough.” Nothing I ever did was enough. My hands trembled as I struggled to pick up my phone. My vision blurred as I stared at the screen for a long moment before finally dialing the number. “I need you to help me prepare divorce papers,” I said. My voice shook, but my decision was firm. There was a pause on the other end of the line. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “And,” I added after a painful silence, “I would also like to give up custody of my son.”