2
The video had been posted just half an hour before. I clicked on it.
It was recorded in a private suite, probably at The Emerald Bay Inn. Scarlett stood in front of the table with Jazz holding Delilah, and they were all smiling.
Scarlett turned her head slightly, and the camera panned over.
And that’s when I saw Harrison.
If there’s one person I despise more than anyone else, it’s Harrison Drake.
We were young and in love once; I thought we’d be together forever.
But on our tenth anniversary, the husband of his high school sweetheart suddenly passed away, leaving her alone with two young children.
Harrison began supporting her and her kids, saying it was his “duty.”
When I found out, we had a fierce argument. His face turned red as he accused me of having “no heart.”
And then, he handed me divorce papers and told me he needed to be there for her kids since “Kel and Sabi are so young and need a father.”
Our daughter Scarlett clung to his leg, sobbing and begging him not to leave.
But Harrison didn’t look back.
I took a hefty divorce settlement, changed Scarlett’s last name to mine, and moved on.
I didn’t remarry, worried a stepfather might mistreat her. Instead, I poured my life into raising Scarlett alone. I watched her go to college, find love, marry Jazz, and give birth to little Delilah.
Throughout those years, Harrison never showed his face.
Now and then, I’d hear that he and Vivienne, his “first love,” had stayed together, raising her children as his own, utterly devoted.
Scarlett once told me she hated Harrison as much as I did.
I thought, with all she remembered from our divorce, she would keep him and that other woman out of her life.
But I was wrong.
<
On that screen, Scarlett stood next to Harrison, chatting with him as if nothing had happened, even leading the “Happy Birthday” song for
Vivienne.
Jazz and Delilah clapped along, along with Harrison’s two children, all singing and celebrating.
And in the center of the crowd was Vivienne, looking radiant, dressed in a lovely gown, like the center of everyone’s world.
The irony was that Vivienne and I shared the same birthday.
But worse-
My Scarlett, who I had raised through so much, walked up to Vivienne, wrapped her arms around her, and called her “Mom Vivi.”
