After I Met Him in a Car Accident
After waiting a whole year for a family trip with the three of us, there was finally something to look forward to.
But the first thing he said chilled me to the bone.
Daisy, your cough still hasn't fully healed. Bring Quincy along on the trip—she can help out, so you won't overexert yourself.
I just stood there frozen, completely forgetting the itch in my throat.
Quincy Wade, the first love he kept close to his heart, had only just returned from abroad last month.
Coincidentally, I had really been battling the flu at that time—low fever and coughing nonstop.
But that didn't give him the right to squeeze some "outsider" into our family trip.
Before I could even argue, the school suddenly called.
My son, Nick Shawn, got into a fight at school and split a classmate's forehead open.
I grabbed my bag and rushed to the school, my heart pounding wildly.
But when I got to the school gate, I saw Quincy smiling as she patted Nick's head, while a student’s parent standing opposite her clutched a wad of cash.
"Are you Nick's mom?" She looked me up and down, their tone laced with a hint of disdain. "Thankfully, Ms. Wade was nice; otherwise, this wouldn't have been so simple."
Quincy Wade spoke just in time, her voice as soft and gentle as flowing water: "Don't worry. I've already handled it."
Before I could even say thank you, Nick had already darted behind Quincy Wade.
He looked up at me with his little face, eyes cold as ice. "Mom, why are you only here now? Ms. Wade arrived ages ago. You're completely useless."
Those words stabbed into my heart like needles, painfully dense and piercing.
Later, I learned from the teacher that the first person Nick called after the accident was Quincy Wade.
That night, I called Nick into the living room and told Calvin Shawn to his face that I wanted a divorce.
Calvin Shawn was looking down at some documents; when he heard that, he looked up with a calmness so cold there wasn't a single ripple: "Making a fuss over something so trivial?"
Nick tugged at Calvin Shawn's sleeve, his voice colder than his dad's: "Mom's just so rigid! Ms. Wade is way gentler, and she even buys me Transformers."
Looking at the father and son acting like a united front right in front of me, I suddenly found it all quite laughable.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth, trying hard to keep my voice steady: "Fine, then I'm leaving. Let your Ms. Wade be your mom."
Nick's eyes lit up, as if he'd been waiting a long time for me to say that.
The next morning, I placed the printed divorce agreement in front of Calvin Shawn.
Nick snatched it up eagerly, acting like a little grown-up as he urged him, "Dad, hurry up and sign! Once you sign, Ms. Wade can move in."
His voice still had the innocence of a child, but the disgust in his eyes was impossible to hide.
Calvin Shawn held my hand; his fingertips were cold, yet his brow was tightly furrowed.
"Stop it."
His voice was flat but carried an undeniable dismissiveness.
"Is this what you should do in front of the child?"
Those words hit my heart like a heavy hammer.
So all my pain and grievances were just "nonsense" in his eyes.
Just as I was about to defend myself, the doorbell suddenly rang.
Nick jumped up instantly, the coldness on his face completely gone. "It's Ms. Wade!" he exclaimed.
He cheered as he ran to open the door, while I stood frozen, my feet feeling like they were filled with lead.
Outside, Quincy Wade wore an off-white French-style dress, her makeup immaculate, holding a cartoon gift box in her hand.
She looked down at the rushing Nick with a warm smile. "Nick, I promised to bring you the limited edition Transformers toy—I kept my word."
"Ms. Wade is the best!" Nick hugged her leg, rubbing against it affectionately.
That's the kind of closeness I never had, not even from my own birth mother.
Calvin Shawn walked over and casually took the gift box from Quincy's hands, his movements so natural it was like they'd been married for a decade.
He glanced back at me, his voice low: "Quincy's here. Don't cause trouble—know when to stop."
With that, he led Quincy and Nick toward the door, not even bothering to close it properly.
"Nick, do you want to try that new steakhouse? I already made a reservation."
"Yes! Dad, let's hurry up. Don't wait for Mom."
"You're just spoiling him."
Their laughter gradually faded away. I clutched my chest, the pain nearly stealing my breath.
So, my seven years of marriage and waiting—all turned out to be nothing more than a self-directed farce.
I met Calvin Shawn on a stormy night seven years ago.
He had a car accident and was trapped inside the mangled driver's seat. I braved the rain, smashed the glass with a rock, and pulled him out.
When he woke up in the hospital, he said only two things to me.
"Thank you for saving me."
"Let's get married—consider it my way of repaying you."
At the time, I thought it was a gift from fate.
It wasn't until much later that I realized it was a bitter prison he locked me in—called 'marriage.'
For seven years, our marriage was like a stagnant pool.
He never talked to me about work, never asked how I was doing. We barely shared a bed—more distant than roommates.
When I was pregnant with Nick, in the final stage, I had a premature birth and severe bleeding.
The nurses called Calvin Shawn over ten times, but he didn't answer once.
Later, I found out that day he went to pick up Quincy Wade at the airport because she said she was afraid of the dark and didn't want to take a taxi alone.
What's even more ironic is that the son I barely survived giving birth to doesn't feel the slightest bit close to me.
The first time Nick met Quincy Wade, he clung to her leg, crying, "I don't want this mom—I want Ms. Wade to be my mom."
Cold memories surged up. I leaned against the wall and slowly picked up the divorce agreement from the floor.
When your heart is utterly dead, no matter how hard you fight, this marriage—I absolutely have to end it.
I sat on the sofa all night, only hearing the door lock turn at dawn.
Calvin Shawn pushed open the door and walked in. The first thing I noticed was the scent of his cologne—it was the lily fragrance Quincy Wade always used.
When he saw me, his brows immediately furrowed. "Not sleeping? Didn't you have enough scene last night?"
I said nothing. I just stood up and handed him the divorce agreement.
He lowered his gaze, glanced at it, and froze for a moment when he saw the words "Divorce Agreement."
Then, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "Daisy Lincoln, don't you ever get tired of being so annoying?"
"Sign it—remember, I once saved you." My voice was rough and hoarse, and my eyes were icy cold.
He sounded like he'd just heard the world's biggest joke: "You want a divorce just because a few things haven't gone your way lately?"
His words stabbed into my heart like icy needles, but I was already numb from the pain.
"Calvin Shawn, no matter what you say, I'm definitely going through with this divorce."
His thin lips pressed tightly together as he stared at me for a long time.
Finally, he spoke with impatience in his voice: "Is this about Quincy again? I'll say it one last time—she and I are just friends..."
Before he could finish speaking, a soft sobbing interrupted him.
I looked up and saw Quincy standing in the doorway, her eyes red and swollen, clutching a thermos.
"Calvin, don't argue with Daisy because of me." She sniffled, her voice full of hurt, "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come here, and I shouldn't have agreed to Nick bringing breakfast."
She was about to turn and leave, saying, "I'll go now. I won't bother Daisy anymore."
"Quincy!" Calvin's face changed instantly, and without hesitation, he chased after her.
By some strange twist, I ended up following them from behind, holding onto a foolish flicker of hope.
But before I could catch up, just across the street, I heard Calvin Shawn's desperate shout, "Quincy!"
I looked up to see an electric bike crashing into Quincy Wade. She fell to the ground, and Calvin immediately rushed over, pulling her into his arms.
My feet froze, and I heard his trembling voice: "Quincy, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
After coming to my senses, I hurried over.
When Calvin saw me, his eyes instantly filled with fury and hatred. "Daisy Lincoln, look at the mess you've made! Are you satisfied now?"
Every single word from him stabbed into my heart like a knife.
I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, but I didn't explain—I knew that even if I did, he wouldn't believe me.
Calvin Shawn held Quincy Wade and rushed to the hospital, never once looking back at me.
But I still followed, standing in the hospital corridor, peeking through the crack of the ward door to look inside.
Quincy's injuries weren't serious—just a mild concussion and some abrasions.
She lay on the bed and weakly smiled at Nick, who was by her side: "Don't worry, Nick, I am fine."
Calvin Shawn sat on the edge of the bed, carefully feeding her water. The tenderness in his eyes and expression was something I'd never seen before.
Nick clutched Quincy Wade's hand, his little face streaked with tears. "Ms. Wade, does it hurt? Let me ease it for you."
Suddenly, Nick looked up at me standing by the door.
He jumped off the chair and rushed out the door, his eyes full of hate. With all his strength, he pushed me hard. "Get lost, you wicked woman! You're the one who caused Ms. Wade's accident! I hate you! Why don't you just die!"
They say children speak without filters, but his words hurt even more than an adult's curse.
I staggered back two steps, my body trembling uncontrollably.
This is the son I barely survived giving birth to, the treasure I've cherished for five years.
Calvin Shawn immediately came out of the hospital room, shielding Nick behind him, looking at me like I was a dangerous beast. "What are you doing here? What more do you want? Do you have to watch Quincy die right before your eyes to feel satisfied?"
My heart had long since gone numb from the pain.
I stayed silent and pulled out another copy of the divorce agreement from my bag—I knew the first one would be torn to shreds by him.
He didn't even look at it; he just reached out and tossed the agreement aside. "Daisy Lincoln, if you don't want me to hate you, then get out of here right now!"
Once, hearing those cold words from him would keep me up all night, tossing and turning, anxious, wondering what I did wrong.
But now, my heart feels like a stagnant pond, not even a ripple stirring.
Nick rushed over again, pushing me, "Get lost! You're not allowed to bully Ms. Wade here!"
I lost my footing and slammed into the wall, a dull ache spreading through my lower back.
I stared at the man before me—the one I'd loved for seven years—and at my son, whose eyes were full of bitter resentment toward me.
"It's fine. I've prepared plenty of copies of the divorce agreement."
With those words, I turned around, expressionless, and walked away.
After leaving the hospital, I went straight to the law firm.
The lawyer frowned after hearing my story and said, "If Mr. Shawn refuses to agree to the divorce, the first lawsuit might not grant it. You'll need proof of his coldness and Miss Wade's interference in your marriage."
I nodded and pulled out all the chat logs and photos I'd collected over seven years—things I should have done a long time ago.
After leaving the law firm, I returned to that so-called "home."
When I pushed the door open, a sharp stench of disinfectant hit me right in the face.
Quincy Wade sat on the sofa, her face pale, still dressed in a hospital gown.
Nick was carefully peeling grapes, holding one up to her mouth with gentle care.
The concern in his eyes felt like needles piercing my tear-filled gaze.
Calvin Shawn stood with his back to me; when he heard the sound, he turned around, his tone flat and tinged with irritation: "You're back."
I froze in place.
Nick saw me, and the smile vanished from his face instantly, replaced by outright hostility: “Why are you back? You're not allowed to bully Ms. Wade!”
Quincy looked at me, her voice soft and fragile, as if she were deeply wronged: “Daisy, please don't misunderstand. I just got out of the hospital and really had nowhere else to go. Calvin and Nick are kind—they're only letting me stay for a few days.”
Calvin Shawn handed Quincy a cup of warm water, his gesture natural and caring.
When he looked at me, his voice dropped: "Quincy's health still hasn't recovered, and she needs someone to take care of her. Someone has to take responsibility for what you caused. Having her stay at home makes things easier, and you can... atone for your mistakes."
Atone?
I couldn't help but twitch the corner of my mouth, wanting to laugh, but no laughter came.
I did nothing from start to finish—so what crime am I supposed to have committed?
I stared at Calvin Shawn. Seven years married, and I searched his face for even a trace of guilt.
But there was none. His eyes held only cold indifference and a protective care for Quincy.
At that moment, I felt sickened by him.
Quincy tugged at Calvin's sleeve, her eyes pleading: "Calvin, don't say that about Daisy. It's all my fault—I shouldn't have shown up. I'll leave right now."
She was about to stand when Nick suddenly panicked and shouted at me furiously, "You're not allowed to make Ms. Wade leave! You're such a terrible woman!"
My heart hurt so much I felt like I was suffocating. I knelt down, trying to explain to Nick, "Nick, I am not trying to send Ms. Wade away. I just..."
Before I could finish speaking, a sharp ‘smack' echoed through the living room.
Nick raised his hand and, with all his strength, slapped me across the face.
The slap wasn't hard, but the humiliation and despair it brought made my whole body freeze, as if my blood had turned to stone.
My cheek burned fiercely, and all I could hear were Nick's hateful screams in my ear: “You're not my mom! I hate you! Get out of my house! I want Ms. Wade to be my mom!”
I stayed crouched there as tears finally spilled down my face.
Calvin Shawn stood there, his expression cold and unyielding.
He didn't comfort our crying son, nor did he blame Nick for hitting me. He just said calmly, "You go out first, stay at your friend's for a few days. This house needs some peace right now."
This house needs some peace.
So, the one who has to leave is me.
I tugged at the corner of my lips, forcing out a bitter, sarcastic smile.
Is this the home I earned after seven years of my youth and narrowly surviving childbirth nine times?
As soon as Quincy Wade returned, I became the extra one—the one who should be thrown out.
The pain on my face gradually faded, leaving only numbness behind.
I slowly stood up, not looking at Nick, who was crying and throwing a tantrum, not at Quincy, who was putting on an act, and definitely not at the man I had loved for seven years.
I walked to the entryway, pulled the third copy of the Divorce Agreement out of my bag, and returned in front of Calvin Shawn.
He stared at the paper in my hand, his brows tightly knit, as if about to accuse me again.
I didn't give him the chance. I slammed the Divorce Agreement down heavily on the coffee table in front of him.
In that moment, Quincy's sobbing stopped, and Nick's cries faltered.
I looked at the man before me—the one I once loved with all my heart, the one I saved, who in the end left me battered and bruised time after time.
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