Never Whole Again
I begged my husband 304 times before he finally agreed to spend a birthday with our seriously ill daughter.
We waited until the cake on the table melted and the warmth slowly left our daughter’s body, but he never showed up.
Then, his first love shared a photo on social media. In it, my husband had one arm around her and the other holding her child. Behind them stood a towering birthday cake display.
Our daughter had waited five years for a birthday cake that never came. Yet another child received it without even trying.
The caption read: The promised tiered cake is finally here!
I quietly liked the post. Soon after, he texted me, demanding an explanation.
[How many times do I have to tell you? Miranda’s daughter is dealing with depression, and I need to be there for her. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.]
I looked down at the child in my arms, whose body had gone completely cold.
“Alright,” I said softly. “I won’t do that again.”