• Chapter 9 

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The daughter was pleasantly surprised to discover that this was the beach trip she had always 

wanted to go on. 

“Dad, I was so happy!” 

My daughter didn’t sleep much all night because she was so happy. 

The next morning, I packed my luggage. Seeing her so happy, I decided to have fun first before dealing with the divorce. 

Things just happened so suddenly. 

As the ticket inspection approached, Joaquin received a message. 

He was completely engulfed in a state of panic. 

“Nyla, she, Nyla, she committed suicide, I have to…‘ 

I nodded with a smile and said, “No one is stopping you.” 

11 

He became even more afraid when he saw the smile on my face. 

“Diana, believe me, I was saving lives and nothing else.” 

My smile became more forgiving: “You’re right, human life is of utmost importance, I understand 

you.” 

Joaquin took a deep breath, relieved, and gave me a grateful look. 

I touched my silent daughter again and then turned around and ran. 

Once he left, he would lose all the opportunities. 

My daughter and I watched quietly. 

People, they were destined long ago. 

I won’t really change myself for anyone. 

We both exchanged a smile and boarded the plane with no emotions. And we sent him the neatly 

arranged divorce agreement. 

When I arrived at the seaside, I changed into a more conservative swimsuit. 

Lia’s eyes curved into a crescent moon shape as she said, “Mom, you have a great figure, why don’t 

you wear those separated ones?” 

I felt a little shy and said softly, “Mom is old, that’s what little girls wear.” 

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The daughter frowned and said, “Who decided that is what girls should wear!” 

was slightly stunned, yeah, when did I start caring about this viewpoint so much. 

I pondered for a moment and suddenly remembered. 

Ah, it turns out it started many years ago. 

At that time, I had just given birth to a child not long ago. 

My college friend invited me to go out and have fun. 

I haven’t been out for nearly half a year because I have been taking care of the children. 

That day, I rummaged through my boxes and found the skirt I used to love wearing before giving birth, which slightly accentuated my waist. 

I eagerly put on the clothes, as if I had returned to the time when I used to play with my 

friends. 

Just as I was indulging in the reflection of my image in the mirror, Joaquin passed behind me and uttered a light–hearted remark. 

“We are all mothers now, who are you trying to look young and girlish for by wearing little girl’s clothes? Besides, just look at your little belly.” 

My smile froze on my face as his words filled me with an indescribable sense of shame. 

I clumsily took off my clothes all at once, as if I could avoid getting hurt as long as I did it fast 

enough. 

Joaquin could see my reaction, but he went even further. 

He pretended to be considerate of me and said, “Look, you also think you’re ugly, right? In the future, wear less of these things that don’t match your identity, so as not to be laughed at when you 

go out.” 

The attack of postpartum hormones and Joaquin’s cruelty made me completely break down. 

That day, I was unable to keep the appointment. 

But instead, at home, I cried as if the world was falling apart. 

Joaquin not only did not console me, but also said I was being overly dramatic and sensitive by my 

side.