Before the words had even faded, Jason slammed his chopsticks down, frowning as he said coldly,
“Rachel, what nonsense are you spouting? Ethan’s just a kid! And you want a divorce over a single sentence of his?”
“I swear, not only are you greedy and shameless, you’re also petty! You were the one who secretly ate the cupcake Ethan made for Ms. Emily, and now you’re throwing a tantrum and blaming him? Absolutely unreasonable!”
His scolding was like a bucket of ice water poured over me, chilling me to the core.
Three days earlier, I had found a lopsided little cupcake tucked away in the corner of the fridge.
Next to it was a card in Ethan’s childish handwriting:
“It might not look pretty, but it’ll taste good! Daddy and I made this together! Happy Birthday!”
In that moment, I was touched. I thought it was a birthday surprise from Jason and Ethan.
Carefully, I took a tiny bite, then happily snapped a photo and posted it on Facebook:
“The sweetest birthday gift I’ve ever received. Thank you, my son!”
Within seconds, Ethan’s kindergarten teacher Emily Brooks gave it a like.
Right after that, Ethan called me in a fury on his iPad.