Chapter 4: Drawing the Line

Nor would I kneel and give him the gift in my hand, trying to please him.

Mark laughed at me. "See? That’s what you get for being so strict with your son. Now he’s not close to you anymore. Serves you right."

He grinned, tossing back his second glass of wine. The rest of the family joined in, a chorus of thinly veiled jabs.

My father-in-law and mother-in-law also mocked me:

"The kid’s grown up. He knows his grandparents and dad truly love him, unlike some people who always use the excuse of doing things for the kid’s own good to actually make his life miserable."

"If the kid’s mom were a gentle woman, our Caleb would be even more promising."

Their words were honeyed poison, dripping with old resentments and small-town judgment.

I nodded.

"Well, since it’s a birthday wish, I have no reason not to fulfill it. Let’s get divorced."

I said it so quietly, I almost surprised myself. But for the first time, I meant every word. The silence that followed was thick, as if I’d just turned off the music at a party.

The noise abruptly stopped.

Then, the four of them pursed their lips and sneered.

Mark crossed his legs and teased me, "Alright, this is the first time I’ve seen you so straightforward. Then let’s go sign the papers tomorrow."

I shook my head. "No, I’m busy tomorrow."

I kept my tone even, almost bored, as if I had more important plans—like a dentist appointment or a dinner date.

They laughed even louder.

My son, as if he expected this, mocked me: "More excuses. In short, you don’t want to get divorced at all—control freak, tiger mom."

His voice was petulant, the kind of bratty sarcasm only a teenager could pull off. I could see the smirk he shared with his dad, like they were a team against me.

I looked straight at them. "What I mean is, it’s only noon now. No need to wait until tomorrow. The divorce can be done this afternoon."

My mother-in-law glared at me viciously. "Stop pretending. I’d sooner believe the sky will fall than believe you’ll get divorced. Hurry up and give the gift to Caleb."

She reached out and took the gift from my hand.

My son took it and carelessly opened it, muttering, "So flat—wonder where this cheap thing came from. I don’t want it."

He barely glanced at me, tearing open the wrapping paper and tossing it aside like junk mail.

After that, he rudely tore open the package.

An admission ticket wrapped in plastic slipped out.

When my son saw it clearly, his eyes immediately lit up.

His whole face changed, just for a second—hope and greed flashing across his features.

"It’s a ticket to the Sain Winter Camp!"

I took the ticket back.

"Since you don’t want me as your mom anymore, you shouldn’t take my things."

My voice was quiet, but there was steel in it. For once, I felt the balance of power shift, just a little.