The 72-Hour Countdown: Divorcing My Secret Husband

For eight years of our hidden marriage, Caelen never publicly acknowledged my existence, nor our daughter Harper's.

On our daughter's eighth birthday, he threw a spectacular, city-wide welcome banquet for his childhood sweetheart, Seraphina, and her son, Leo.

Watching the glaringly perfect picture they painted as a "family of three," I suggested to my daughter that it was time to leave.

Harper, her eyes red, tugged at my shirt hem and pleaded, "Mommy, can we give Daddy three more days? Just three. If he still doesn't love me by then, we'll go."

Caelen had no idea that those three days were his final countdown as a father.

......

"Who gave you permission to fight with Leo over the cake? Didn't your mother teach you basic manners?"

Caelen's harsh voice echoed through the living room.

Just moments ago, Leo had aggressively reached out and smacked the cake right off Harper's plate onto the floor. Yet, in Caelen's eyes, Harper was the instigator.

It was 7:00 PM, and the house was packed with the city's most elite figures.

The lights shone brightly on a massive four-tier fondant cake. But the icing on top read: Welcome home, Seraphina & Leo.

When in fact, today was my daughter Harper's eighth birthday.

Harper flinched. Looking at the ruined cake on the floor, the longing in her eyes shifted into pure, helpless panic.

Her voice was so small, not even daring to meet the mocking gazes around her. "Today... today is my birthday."

"Enough."

Caelen strode over, his face dark, and forcefully snatched the fork from her hand.

"Does the world revolve around you just because it's your birthday?"

Dropping those cold words, he turned around, instantly switching to a gentle expression I had never seen before.

He half-knelt, pulling Leo into his arms and gently patting his back to soothe him. "It's okay, Leo. Don't be scared. If you don't want to share with her, we won't."

Under the blinding lights, it felt as if a piece of my heart had been brutally carved out.

I knew that little boy. That was Seraphina's son, Leo.

And the woman standing behind Caelen was Seraphina—his childhood sweetheart.

Eight years ago, she had abandoned Caelen without a word.

Disheartened and drunk, Caelen slept with me one night, resulting in my unexpected pregnancy with Harper. Out of a sense of duty, he married me, but demanded that our marriage remain an absolute secret.

I thought time could melt the ice in his heart. I thought Harper's birth would let him feel the warmth of a family. I was wrong.

Watching him hold another man's son so tightly, coaxing him with such limitless patience, I finally understood.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to smile; he just didn't smile at us. It wasn't that he didn't have time; he just gave all his time to someone else.

Now that Seraphina was back, Caelen's heart was entirely devoted to her and her son.

She slipped her arm through Caelen's and spoke up, "Let it go, Caelen. Don't blame the child. Elara exhausts herself working as a live-in maid here every day. It's only natural she doesn't have the time or energy to properly educate her daughter."

A few condescending sneers rippled through the crowd.

Eight years of marriage, and under this very roof, I had been reduced to an on-call maid.

My own flesh and blood had become the lowly child of the help in their eyes.

Even the word "Daddy" was something Harper only dared to whisper to the empty air in the dead of night.

Swallowing the razor-sharp bitterness in my throat, I walked forward.

I wiped the tears from my daughter's face and shielded her firmly behind me.

"My apologies. I'll take her away right now."

Back in our room, brilliant fireworks burst across the night sky outside the window, illuminating Harper's tear-streaked face.

She walked over to the corner and touched a handmade wooden cabin model. It was the gift she had prepared for Caelen.

"Mommy," she suddenly turned to look at me. Her eyes held a deep, desolate maturity that no eight-year-old should ever possess. "Why does Daddy never acknowledge us? Does he really hate me?"

A sharp pain tore through my chest.

I knelt down and pulled her into my arms.

"How could he? My Harper is such a good girl, who could ever hate you? It's Mommy's fault."

I forced a smile that looked worse than crying, my voice broken and hoarse. "It's because Mommy was too cowardly that you had to suffer all these grievances. Harper is the most precious treasure in this world."

My tears fell silently. "Since he doesn't cherish you, Mommy will take you away. We'll never come back here again, okay?"

Harper buried her face in my shoulder, and stayed silent for a long time.

"Mommy, can we wait just three more days?" Tears welled in her eyes, her voice pleading. "My architectural model competition is in three days. I want Daddy to see my work. Just once."

Looking at the pleading in my daughter's eyes, my heart ached as if repeatedly slashed by a knife. How could I bear to refuse her?

"Just three days. If he still doesn't love me by then... we'll leave," she continued.

Seeing that last shred of longing for a father's love in her eyes, I closed mine and agreed.

"Okay."

After coaxing her to sleep, I sat in front of the computer and opened the divorce agreement I had drafted long ago.

Then, I contacted my mentor in Milan.

"Elara, you've finally come around," my mentor's voice on the other end of the line was filled with pleasant surprise. "The architectural institute here in Milan has always kept a spot open for you. When can you and Harper get here?"

"In three days," I said softly, looking at Harper as she slept soundly.

Caelen, my daughter and I are giving you three final days.

After three days.

It will be me and Harper's turn to walk away from you.