It was meant to be a simple, joyful family outing to the fair one final attempt to help my husband, Simon, reconnect with our daughter, Sophie. She had her heart set on a pink alien plush from the claw machine. I tried my best to win it for her but couldn’t. Strangely, the very next day, I noticed that exact same pink alien sitting in the backseat of Simon’s car. My heart lifted, thinking maybe he’d finally done something thoughtful for Sophie. But when I asked him, he denied knowing anything about it even going so far as to gaslight me, insisting no toy was there at all.
A few days later, everything fell apart during a visit to my best friend Christine’s house. Sophie saw Christine’s son, Jimmy, holding the identical pink alien and burst into tears. I calmly asked Jimmy where it came from, and with childlike honesty, he said Simon gave it to him in exchange for keeping Simon’s visits to Christine a secret. My heart dropped. That innocent little toy turned out to be undeniable proof of a betrayal I never saw coming, involving the two people I trusted most.
I confronted Christine, devastated, and saw the truth confirmed in messages on her phone. When I asked why Simon hadn’t just divorced me, she said he was afraid I’d “take everything.” That’s exactly what I intended to do. I left with Sophie that day, hired a lawyer, and filed for divorce. My daughter deserved more than a father who ignored her and a mother who played pretend while everything fell apart behind closed doors.
I bought Sophie another pink alien this one even bigger and saw her smile return as she hugged it close. That night, when Simon walked through the door, I handed him the divorce papers and told him it was over. As he shouted and slammed the door, I checked on Sophie. She was asleep, peacefully holding her alien. In that moment, I knew we’d be okay. Just the two of us. We were more than enough.