Chapter 1
Because my daughter accidentally smudged my niece's drawing, my husband, who was adamant about keeping peace between the families, decided she needed to be punished by being confined to a room.
I remembered the doctor's warning about my daughter's claustrophobia and begged my husband not to do this.
He looked at me coldly, "You're the one who coddles her—she has too many problems. She should be more like Kaiya, who is obedient and well-behaved."
But he just didn't get it. That night, my daughter succumbed to panic in the confinement room and became a cold, lifeless body.
In that moment, my heart broke beyond repair.
The next day, I carried my daughter's body through the rain to the funeral home and pleaded for a divorce at Callahan’s doorstep.
...
"Daddy, Mommy, it’s so dark here. Kaiya is scared...please help Kaiya."
After my husband locked our daughter in the confinement room, her heart-wrenching cries tore at me.
No matter how much I pleaded with him, explaining her fear of small spaces, he remained indifferent.
It wasn't until later that night, when her cries faded to weak whimpers like a baby's, that I threatened to harm myself to get the key from him.
But when I unlocked the door, I found my daughter lying on the floor as if asleep. She was rigid and cold, no longer breathing.
I stood there, in disbelief, staring at the scene.
Just that morning, she was so full of life, laughing and playing.
And now, in an instant, she was gone.
Holding her lifeless body, I cried until my heart felt like it was being torn apart.
I tasted something metallic in my throat and suddenly coughed up blood.
My daughter—she was so young, not quite five years old.
In just a few weeks, we were supposed to celebrate her sixth birthday.
We had promised to take her to the zoo.
She had such a beautiful life ahead of her.
But now, she lay still in my arms...
As dawn broke, I finally accepted Kaiya's death.
I took her to the funeral home like a hollow shell.
It seemed as though the skies understood my sorrow, as a drizzle began despite the earlier clear skies. By the time I returned home, I was drenched.
"You went out in the rain and didn't even take an umbrella for Kaiya. She'll catch a cold and be sick for half a month!"
As soon as I stepped inside, Callahan’s voice was full of reproach.
He didn’t know that Kaiya would never attend school again.
I turned to face him, my eyes filled with grief.
Callahan hesitated seeing my bloodshot eyes.
He seemed a little uneasy, but then anger flushed his face, and he snapped, "Why are you looking at me like that? Kaiya's a big girl now. She should handle a little confinement. At this rate, you'll ruin her."
He paused, then continued harshly, "Let this slide this time. But if it happens again, confinement won't be enough!"
Next time? There won't be one.
Kaiya is now at the funeral home, awaiting cremation.
I stared at Callahan, ready to tell him the devastating truth about our daughter.
But before I could speak, my niece’s cries interrupted from another room.
Callahan rushed off without a backward glance.
Even through the closed door, he shouted, insisting Kaiya apologize to Isabel before she could eat.
Watching his self-righteousness filled me with bitter irony.
Callahan Diaz, you will never have to choose between Isabel and Kaiya again.
Kaiya will never apologize to Isabel, nor will she ever fear your punishments again.
...
In the evening, Callahan sat at the table, eating dinner.
The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly, Evie’s voice broke the silence, "Callahan, my chest feels tight. Could you take a look?"
Without finishing his meal, Callahan hurried to her room.
As I watched him leave me for Evie, a wave of bitterness swept over me.
Callahan, have you not realized that Kaiya has been gone for an entire day?
I returned to my room, took out paper and pen, and began drafting the divorce papers.
This toxic relationship, marked by Kaiya's passing, needed to end.
Deep into the night, Callahan knocked on my door.
He finally remembered that he hadn’t seen our daughter during dinner.
But his first words were a reproach, "Has she run away because she was confined for a day? Not even coming home now?"
"Tell her if she's not back tomorrow after school, she needn't come back at all!"
And with that, he slammed the door shut, leaving me no chance to speak.
As he said, my Kaiya will never come back.