Three Chances, Then I'm Gone

My husband of six years treated me like a piece of meaningless furniture. He treated our daughter even worse, like a mistake he wished he could erase.

It wasn't until she was almost old enough for school that he finally bothered to give her a name.

But on the day his first love got a divorce, the man who was always so cold and stoic began to cry. He smiled through his tears as he stroked our daughter's cheek, whispering her name over and over.

"Summer... Summer..."

"You finally know how much