Being a single mom wasn’t the hardest part. The hardest part was watching my daughter realize, again and again, that her father would always choose someone else over her. But when he tried to take back the birthday gift he had given her just to please his new wife, I knew it was time to teach him a lesson.
Some wounds don’t fade. They don’t heal with time. They don’t shrink into distant memories. They sit there, raw and ugly, waiting for the slightest touch to make them bleed again.
My ex-husband, Willie, was my wound. The kind that throbbed in the middle of the night when silence was so thick that I could hear my own heartbreak echoing through the empty house.
Twelve years of marriage wasn’t just a chapter in my life—it was a whole book I thought was heading toward a beautiful ending. Instead, it was ripped apart, the pages scattered, the story left unfinished.
“Mom?” My daughter, Lily, would sometimes catch me in those quiet moments of pain. “Are you okay?”
I’d swallow the lump in my throat, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, baby. Always fine.”
But I wasn’t fine. I was just surviving. And surviving meant pretending that I wasn’t drowning under the weight of Willie’s absence.
After he left, I worked two jobs to make sure Lily never felt the hole he left behind. Every morning, I would look in the mirror and remind myself: I am more than his abandonment. I am strong. My daughter would never see me break.
And just when I thought I had finally found my footing, Willie called with a request so selfish, so unbelievably him, that I almost laughed.
It wasn’t funny. It was infuriating.
“Hey, Judy,” he said, his voice annoyingly casual, as if we were old friends. “So… about that tablet I gave Lily for her birthday.”
My grip on the phone tightened. “What about it?”
He hesitated, and I knew that pause. It was the same pause he always used when he was about to say something manipulative.
“I need it back.”
For a moment, I thought I had misheard. “You what?”
“It’s just… Sarah thinks it was too expensive,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’ve been trying to be more mindful about spending, and, well, she feels it’s inappropriate for a kid to have such a high-end device when we have financial goals.”
Financial goals? From a man who hadn’t paid child support in six months?
I let out a humorless laugh. “Financial goals? You?”
Willie sighed as if I was the one being unreasonable. “Come on, don’t make this a thing.”
“Oh, I am making this a thing.” My voice was calm, but my blood was boiling. “Do you have any idea what it’s like raising our daughter alone? Working double shifts, saving every penny, making sure she never feels the absence you created?”
“She’s my daughter too,” he muttered weakly.
“Is she? Because from where I’m standing, you only remember that when it’s convenient.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Judy.”
“You promised that tablet to her for months, Willie. She even saved some of her own money to buy apps for it. And now, because Sarah changed her mind, you think you can just take it back?”
“She’s my wife, Judy. We make decisions together now.”
The way he said it—like our daughter was just an old obligation he could discard whenever he wanted—made my stomach turn.
“Sarah doesn’t get to decide what our daughter can and can’t have,” I said coldly. “And neither do you, not anymore.”
There was a shuffling sound on his end, like he was covering the receiver. Then he sighed. “Look, I just need it back, okay?”
A quiet sniffle made me turn.
Lily stood in the doorway, gripping the tablet like it was her lifeline. Her lip trembled, her big brown eyes filled with unshed tears.
That was it. That was my breaking point.
I exhaled slowly, schooling my voice into something dangerously calm. “You know what? Fine. You can have the tablet back.”
Willie hesitated, like he wasn’t expecting me to give in so easily. “Uh… really?”
I smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “Of course. But on one condition.”
He chuckled, thinking he had won. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. See you tomorrow at Coffee Beanz. Bye.”
“Oh, Willie. You just walked into a trap, and you don’t even know it,” I thought.
That night, I stayed up late gathering every financial record I had. Medical bills, school supplies, groceries, clothes—every penny I had spent raising our daughter while he played happy family with Sarah.
And most importantly? I printed the log of Lily’s savings—the exact amount she had put toward the apps for that tablet.
“What are you doing, Mom?” Lily asked, watching me with those wise eyes.
“Making sure justice is served, baby.”
The next day, we met Willie at the coffee shop.
Lily sat beside me, silent. She held the tablet in her lap, fingers gripping the edges like a shield.
Willie sauntered in, smug as ever, Sarah trailing behind him with a disapproving frown.
“Alright, let’s—” He reached for the tablet.
I slid a thick stack of papers across the table. The sound cut through the cafe like a knife.
Willie frowned. “What’s this?”
“Oh, just a little breakdown of everything you owe Lily.” I smiled sweetly. “You can have the tablet back… right after you reimburse her for the money she spent on it.”
His face paled. Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “This is unnecessary.”
“Is it?” I leaned back. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re trying to teach my daughter that gifts can be taken away whenever someone else decides they don’t approve. That’s not how life works.”
Willie glanced at the receipts, then at Lily, who was staring at the table, her small hands clutching the tablet tightly.
His jaw clenched. “Judy, come on—”
“No, you come on.” I met his gaze. “Either pay her back, pay me back… or leave the tablet where it belongs.”
Sarah crossed her arms, waiting for him to put me in my place. But this wasn’t her battlefield.
For a long, tense moment, Willie said nothing. Then, finally, he exhaled, rubbing his face, defeat written all over it.
“Fine. Keep the stupid tablet.” He stormed out, Sarah huffing behind him.
Lily turned to me, eyes wide. “I get to keep it?”
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It was always yours.”
That night, Lily curled up beside me. “Thanks for standing up for me, Mom.”
I wrapped an arm around her, kissing her forehead. “Always, sweetheart.”
Because that’s what real parents do. They don’t just protect. They empower. They don’t just say they love you. They show it.
