Chapter 2

From the back seat, Olivia looked up at her father, her eyes filled with growing anxiety.

A flicker of visible annoyance washed over Christian’s face.

"Olivia is just a kid, Evelyn. There will be plenty of little science fairs and garden shows in the future."

He yanked his arm free from my grip.

"Helena is facing a literal custody crisis right now. You’re a mother—you should know what that means!"

Without another word to me, he leaned back and gave Olivia a quick, rushed hug.

"Sweetheart, Daddy has an urgent emergency and can’t stay. I know you and Mommy can handle this together."

He didn't wait for her response. He slammed the door, stepped into the pouring rain, and flagged down a taxi.

I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and forced a smile as I turned to the back seat.

"It’s okay, baby. Mommy is right here with you."

Olivia didn't cry. She just bit her lip obediently and nodded her little head quietly.

However, the final piece—the intricate organ arch—had been kept in Christian's bag, and the locking mechanism inside was something I had never assembled before.

On stage, under the blinding lights, my daughter and I struggled, but we couldn't get the final arch to snap into place.

Even so, I squeezed her shoulder and encouraged her to present her hard work to the panel.

Olivia took a deep breath.

In her slow, hesitant, halting voice, she tried her absolute best to explain the succulent display to the judges.

She worked so hard, trying so desperately to be articulate.

"It’s a pity, little girl," the lead judge said, shaking his head gently as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.

"It’s a lovely effort, but this piece is clearly incomplete. It looks less like a landscape and more like a collection of scattered potted plants."

The color drained from Olivia’s face until she was ghostly pale.

Yet, she still managed to bow politely to the judges like a well-mannered little girl.

I could give her all the love and comfort in the world, but her father turning his back on her at the final second had completely shattered the fragile confidence she had spent months building.

As the event ended, the main hall was filled with families hugging, laughing, and celebrating.

"Mommy..."

A faint, tiny whisper pulled me back.

Olivia stood beside me, looking up at me silently.

"Can we go home now, Mommy?" she asked softly.

Watching the spark in her amber eyes fade out completely felt like a blunt knife twisting in my chest.

No matter how fiercely I loved my daughter, I could never fill the hollow void left by a father who constantly abandoned her.

Was staying in a dead, fake, broken marriage really worth it if it was destroying my little girl?

When we got home, Olivia didn't even take off her raincoat. She picked up her heavy box of supplies and walked upstairs to her bedroom in complete silence.

I followed her up.

Through the cracked door, a dim, warm light filtered out.

Olivia stood in front of her desk, staring at a massive, intricate Lego Cathedral model—the one project her father had spent months building with her.

She reached out, wrapped her small fingers around the top Golden Spire, and pulled with all her might.

The sharp sound echoed in the quiet room.

That was the ninth Golden Spire she had snapped off.

Olivia clutched the yellow plastic piece in her tiny palm, walked over to me, and placed it gently in my hand.

"Mommy," she whispered, her voice terribly calm. "I don't want to finish this cathedral anymore."

I closed my hand tight around the piece, the sharp plastic edges digging into my skin. "Okay, baby," I whispered back. "Then we won't finish it."