Sorry Sir, I Have the Wrong Dad
1.1k Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
My phone screen lit up the dark nursery.
It was Lily's fifth birthday. I lay next to my sleeping daughter and stared at Chloe Harrington's latest Instagram post.
The caption read:
[Bedtime is so hard without a dad. Thank God he dropped everything to be here tonight.]
The photo showed a man lying on a bed, reading a story to Chloe's son. That man was my husband, Arthur Sterling.
I swiped down on my screen. Right above the Instagram notification was a text Arthur had sent ten minutes ago.
[Tied up at work. Don't wait up for me, Eleanor.]
My heart went numb. I liked Chloe's photo, closed the app, and called my divorce lawyer.
It was Lily's fifth birthday. I lay next to my sleeping daughter and stared at Chloe Harrington's latest Instagram post.
The caption read:
[Bedtime is so hard without a dad. Thank God he dropped everything to be here tonight.]
The photo showed a man lying on a bed, reading a story to Chloe's son. That man was my husband, Arthur Sterling.
I swiped down on my screen. Right above the Instagram notification was a text Arthur had sent ten minutes ago.
[Tied up at work. Don't wait up for me, Eleanor.]
My heart went numb. I liked Chloe's photo, closed the app, and called my divorce lawyer.


















































