👧💔My daughter had a black notebook. Every time her father let her down, she drew a red X in it. Until I secretly saw the forty-ninth one. It was the day of her piano competition. 🩸🩸He had promised he would be there. And once again, he wasn't. "Mommy, did Daddy choose them again?" When that red X was drawn, I finally decided to take her and leave this home.🔥👇👇 ---------- My daughter kept a notebook. Every time her father broke a promise to her, she drew a small red X on a fresh page. She never showed it to me. I found it by accident the spring she turned eight, tucked beneath her pillow. There were forty-seven Xs. Today was supposed to be the day that finally broke that toxic cycle. It was the first Saturday of December. Outside, the city was freezing, but inside our SUV, the heater was blasting as we drove toward the conservatory. It was Lily's first piano competition. For three straight months, she had practiced the exact same complicated Beethoven piece. Last week, Mark had knelt in the center of our living room carpet. He held her small hands and swore he wouldn't miss it. He bought her a dark blue velvet dress for the occasion. She was wearing it now, smoothing the fabric nervously over her knees. We took our seats in the third row of the auditorium. We had ten minutes before the red velvet curtains parted. Mark sat to my right, tapping his leather shoe against the floorboards. Then his phone lit up inside his jacket pocket. I saw the name flash on the screen before he could angle the phone away. Chloe. His personal secretary. He didn't silence the call. He pressed the phone to his ear, and I watched his jaw tighten. "Slow down," he whispered, already shifting toward the aisle. "What happened?" He listened for five seconds, then stood. "I have to go," he said, reaching for his coat. "Leo fell during his soccer game. He scraped his knee pretty badly and he's panicking. Chloe's in a panic and doesn't know what to do." I stared at him, my stomach dropping. "Mark, are you out of your mind?" I kept my voice low, but it shook with anger. "It's a scraped knee. Lily is backstage right now. She spent three months preparing for this. You promised her." He rolled his eyes. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. "Don't do this right now, Sarah. Don't be dramatic. She has you here. Leo has no one. He needs me." He didn't wait for my response. He turned and walked up the aisle, disappearing through the doors. The sound of them closing echoed in my head. Minutes later, the spotlight hit the stage. Lily walked out and immediately searched the audience. I watched her gaze sweep across the first two rows before stopping on the empty seat beside me. Her shoulders slumped. She placed her hands on the keys and played the piece without missing a single note. But the music felt lifeless. Mechanical. Empty. After the show, the lobby was filled with cheering families. Fathers were lifting their daughters into the air while proud parents snapped photos. I stood by the coat check and pulled my phone from my purse. It was an Instagram notification. Chloe had just posted a photo. Mark, still in his suit, was carrying seven-year-old Leo on his shoulders outside a local clinic. Both of them were smiling. The caption read: "Thank God Leo has someone he can always count on." I looked up from my phone and saw Lily standing alone by the glass exit doors, clutching her trophy against her chest while families celebrated all around her. The ride home was quiet except for the steady hum of the heater. At a red light, I glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Lily unzip her backpack, pull out the black notebook, and reach for the red marker. She met my eyes in the mirror. Her voice was flat. "Dad picked them again, didn't he?" She uncapped the marker. The scratching sound filled the car. X number forty-eight. #Goodnovel#EmotionalStory #romancebook#Melodrama #Dreame#UrbanRomance #BrokenMarriage #PowerfulWoman #FromWeaktoPowerful 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Tap “Start Reading” to continue the story on the next page.👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻
