He Chose His Comrade’s Widow Over Our Child’s Birthday Chapter 01

Ever since my husband started spending every one of his off days at his dead teammate’s widow’s house, my daughter had begun writing the same sentence over and over in her school assignments.

[My dad is dead.]

Her teacher eventually called to confirm it.

After a long silence, I answered quietly, “Yeah. It’s been a long time.”

For Father’s Day, the kids in Mia’s class had been asked to make handmade cards for their dads.

Mia folded a paper airplane instead.

In careful little letters, she wrote:

[To Dad, Deliver to Heaven.]

During parent open house, the classroom walls were covered with essays titled My Dad.

Mia’s essay read:

[My dad died on a battlefield called Next Door.

There was always a lady crying there, and after he went to comfort her, he never came home again.]

Every time she wrote one of those essays, she would clutch her eraser so tightly her palms sweated through it.

Eventually, Julian noticed something was wrong.

He rushed home carrying flowers and a birthday cake, saying he wanted to celebrate Mia’s birthday with her.

The moment he stepped inside, his eyes landed on the composition notebook sitting open on the coffee table.

The title was:

[If My Dad Were Still Alive]

…

“Chloe Davenport, is this how you’ve been raising our daughter?”

Julian Thorne stared at the notebook spread across the coffee table.

The childish pencil title stabbed straight into his ego.

[If My Dad Were Still Alive.]

His expression darkened instantly.

“I’m standing right here,” he snapped, eyes blazing. “Why the hell is she writing essays about me being dead?”

He turned toward me, voice rising as he tossed the birthday cake onto the table hard enough to smear frosting against the box lid.

I stayed calm.

“I didn’t teach her that. She wrote it herself.”

Julian clenched his jaw and grabbed the notebook like he wanted to rip it apart.

But the moment his eyes landed on Mia’s uneven handwriting, he froze.

A few seconds later, he slowly lowered it again.

What he didn’t know was that this wasn’t the first time.

Ever since he’d moved Vivian Rhodes and her son to Oakhaven after Caleb Vance died in that fire, Julian had already disappeared from Mia’s world.

As far as she was concerned, her father no longer existed.

I didn’t say another word.

I just looked at him coldly.

Hearing the shouting, Mia stepped out of her bedroom.

She wore faded pajamas that had been washed too many times. Instead of running into Julian’s arms like she used to, she quietly hid behind me.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t flinch at his anger.

She just stared at him with calm, distant eyes.

Like he was a stranger.

That hurt far more than tears ever could.

Julian’s breathing caught.

The rage clogging his chest suddenly seemed to die in his throat under that little girl’s detached gaze.

Annoyed, he tugged at his tie and forced himself to soften his tone.

“Mia, come here.”

He reached into the shopping bag behind him and pulled out a shoebox.

“Daddy bought you the ballet shoes you wanted. Aren’t your exams next month? Come try them on and see if they fit.”

Mia had stared at those shoes through the department store window for three straight months.

Every single time, Julian had promised, Next time, sweetheart.

Before, she would’ve exploded with excitement.

Now she didn’t move an inch.

Julian sighed and crouched down himself, opening the shoebox as he reached for her foot.

But right before he touched her ankle, his phone rang.

A soft piano ringtone filled the room.

Everyone at the fire station knew that ringtone.

It was reserved for Vivian.

Julian jerked his hand back like he’d been electrocuted.

He immediately stood and answered the call.

“Vivian? What happened?”

His voice turned gentle and anxious without him even realizing it.

On the other end came Vivian’s shaky sobbing.

“Julian, I’m sorry for bothering you again. Leo’s asthma is acting up, and he keeps crying for you. I can’t calm him down by myself. I’m scared.”

Standing there listening to her familiar helpless-act routine, I felt nauseous.

Julian’s face changed instantly.

Without hesitation, he dropped the ballet shoes onto the carpet and grabbed his car keys from the entry table.

“Chloe, take care of Mia. Leo’s situation is serious. I need to go.”

His tone was completely matter-of-fact, like abandoning his own daughter to take care of another woman’s son was the most natural thing in the world.

A second later, the front door slammed shut.

He never even looked back at Mia.

Silence swallowed the house.

Mia slowly walked over to the ballet shoes lying on the floor.

She stared at them for a few seconds.

Then she bent down, picked them up, and threw them into the trash can.

“Mom?”

She looked up at me, voice soft and airy.

“Dead people can’t buy shoes, right?”

Something inside my chest tore open so violently I could barely breathe through the pain.

I knelt and pulled her tightly into my arms, stroking her hair.

“Right,” I whispered.

After Mia fell asleep, I sat alone in the study and opened the bottom drawer of my desk.

Inside were two documents.

A printed employment offer from a prestigious hospital in Silverport.

And my resignation letter from my current one.

I was an attending orthopedic surgeon.

Over the years, I had already given up three overseas fellowship opportunities because of Julian’s career.

But I was done sacrificing myself for this marriage.

Done drowning in this toxic mess.

I picked up a red pen and circled a date on the calendar fifteen days away.

That was the final onboarding deadline for my new job.

In fifteen days, Mia and I would leave Oakhaven for good.

And from that point on, it would be as if Julian Thorne had never existed in our lives at all.