Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

"I hate you!"

Irwin hurled the rest of his bedtime stories to the floor and stomped on them, his voice trembling with fury. "You're a liar! You don't want me, well, I don't want you either! I don't want any of this!"

"Irwin!"

Stewart grabbed Irwin's arm, his handsome face darkening with anger. "Say one more word like that and you'll be sorry!"

Irwin struggled with all his might, but he was no match for his father's strength.

Blinded by rage, Irwin couldn't see the storm brewing in his father's eyes. All he wanted was to let out every ounce of hurt and frustration bottled up inside him—

"I just hate her!" Irwin jutted out his chin, his tear-stained eyes glaring stubbornly at Stewart. "You said it yourself-she's not really my mom, right? So if she isn't my mom, why should I have to like her? I hate her! I hate that she lied to me!"

Stewart froze.

That one sentence-"You said she's not really my mom!"-hit him like a slap in the face.

He let go of Irwin and turned to look at Briony.

Briony stood rooted to the spot, silent and pale as a ghost.

her delicate face drained of all color. Her usually bright, clear eyes were now clouded, as if a heavy mist had settled over them, snuffing out their light and leaving only broken

always so in control, felt a

[Why is Mommy crying?]

from the depths of Briony's mind. Staring at Irwin, who was now flushed and defiant, she

yet

she'd visited her mother in prison. She'd seen the bruises on her mother's face and realized, for the first time, just how much her mother was suffering behind bars. Briony

the

with Irwin and pretending to read to him, her mind had drifted, lost

neck, his soft cheek pressing against hers.

sting. She'd burst into tears again, unable

with his chubby little hands, mumbling over and over, "Don't cry, Mommy. Don't cry... Irwin's here, Irwin will stay

talk, his words still limited, so he repeated the comforting things she usually said to him. The

day, Briony had been completely broken. She'd clung to

in every way they could. She'd endured it all, no matter how bitter or difficult-but knowing her mother was being bullied and beaten in

no power, no connections. All she could

crying too, blowing

Mommy hurts, Irwin