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But I replied calmly, “There’s no need. It’s not important.”

“What did you say?” he asked, taken aback.

“I said, whatever happens between you and Michelle is your business. You don’t need to explain anything to me

because I don’t care.”

I wasn’t lying to Quincy. In fact, I’d printed the divorce papers before witnessing him and Michelle at the hotel. My plan had been to file for divorce after our thirteenth anniversary. Things just didn’t go according to plan.

Quincy stared at me, lips trembling as he whispered, “It matters, Shannon. It’s important. You can’t think of me

this way…”

But whether he felt wronged or not, Quincy knew the truth. Still, as I prepared to leave, he desperately grabbed my wrist.

“Please, honey, I know I was wrong. On my way here, I…” He hesitated, looking conflicted before he continued, “I

fired Michelle.”

“Shannon, you know my character. I’ve never begged anyone, not even my parents. But today, I’m begging you. Give me one last chance. Can we not get divorced?”

As he looked at me with pleading eyes, my expression remained calm and unmoved. “Quincy, I no longer love you. This is the end.”

I pulled my hand free from his weakened grip, stepped around him and left the room.

Outside, Mason, who looked just like his father, was waiting, his gaze fixed on Mr. Bunny in my hands. His eyes began to redden as he pointed at the stuffed animal and said, “Grandma gave me that. I thought I lost it.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t an accident, Mason. When you were eight, you threw it in the trash yourself.” Mr. Bunny was a gift my mother had painstakingly sewn for Mason’s third birthday despite her battle with cancer. Mason used to hold it when he was scared at night, becoming a brave little soldier with Mr. Bunny by his side. When he was five, he cried because its ear was torn and begged me to save Mr. Bunny

But by the time he was eight, after Michelle’s return, he’d changed. She told him, “Boys your age overseas wouldn’t like something as childish as a stuffed animal.” Soon after. Mason tore Mr. Bunny apart. stuffed it in the

Caught My Husband Dating His First Love

bottom of the trash and left it for me to find.

པས་་་་་ པཔས་་

I had combed through the trash, bag after bag, gagging and trembling, until I finally found the remnants of Mr. Bunny, a precious keepsake from my mother. That afternoon, I lost control, giving Mason a single, scolding slap and making him stand in the corner for ten minutes. After that day, he never called me “Mom” again.

Years later, Mason looked at Mr. Bunny, his eyes full of tears as he begged, “Mom, please, Grandma gave that to me. I need it now-I can’t sleep without it.”

He reached out to touch Mr. Bunny, but I summoned all my strength and pushed him, still weak from his recent illness, to the ground without a second thought.