Urban Romance

A week later, I picked Cherry up from school.
We ate dinner outside and strolled home slowly.
We stepped out of the elevator.
“Mom,” Cherry gently squeezed my palm.
I sensed her little gesture. Tommy, who was standing at the front door, heard the sound and quickly looked up, meeting my gaze.
“Mom,” Tommy called out to me with a delighted look in his eyes.
I didn't respond to him.
He ran over, his eyes pleading, and called out again:
“Mom, it's me, it's Tommy.”
I held Cherry's hand with one hand and carried her small backpack with the other, shaking my head calmly.
“I'm not your mom.”
Tommy stubbornly refused to let us in:  
“Mom, you’re angry with me, aren’t you? I’ll be good from now on. I won’t fight with others anymore. Don’t abandon me.”  
“It’s all their fault. They said you don’t want me anymore, that I’m a child without a mother, so I hit them.”  
Looking at his tear-stained eyes,

I remembered something.
On my birthday, Bradley volunteered to take Tommy to kindergarten, but it was just an excuse.
The kindergarten teacher had already told me about the absence.
At the time, I was happier than anyone else, as father and son had prepared a surprise to celebrate my birthday.  
In the end, neither of them remembered it was my birthday.  
They went to the water park with Florence and had a wild day.  
When they returned home that night, Tommy was still covering for his father, not mentioning a word about his date with Florence.  
That day, I broke down and asked him, “Why are you helping an outsider and teaming up with your father to deceive me?”
“Aunt Florence isn’t an outsider! I love her the most! When I’m with her, she gives me whatever I want. Unlike you, who only tells me what I can and can’t do. It’s so annoying!”  
Tommy retorted confidently.  
At that moment, I 

Within a month, Bradley still didn’t think I was serious about divorcing him.
He just thought it was another one of my tricks.
“Gina, I admit I went too far this time. You don’t have to act anymore. Just come home. I’ll forget about what you said about divorcing me earlier.”
I frowned at him.  
Tommy rolled down the car window and said discontentedly,  
"Dad, Mom is acting this way on her own. Don't interfere with her!  
Hurry up! I've already made plans with Aunt Florence, and we're going to be late!"  
Hearing this, I felt no emotion, and urged Bradley with a half-smile.  
“Did you hear that, Mr. Scott? The sooner we divorce, the sooner we'll be free.”
Bradley stared at me for a moment before saying,  
“Don’t regret this. “ 
“After the divorce, you won’t get custody of Tommy.”  
He was certain I wouldn’t dare to divorce him, confident that he had me by the throat.  
After all, the child was my life.  
“That’s for the best. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t want to keep raising a thankless brat.”
I didn't lower my voice on purpose, and Tommy in the car looked over at the sound, a flash of panic in his eyes.  
Half an hour later.  
I walked out of the civil affairs bureau in a good mood, photoed the divorce certificate and announced the good news of my new single status on my social media.  
Bradley beside me had a dark, unclear expression.  
He was holding Tommy's hand, as if he had something to say to me.
But I didn't want to listen, so I drove off.  
The father and son in the rearview mirror stood there in a daze, seemingly feeling somewhat dejected.  
I averted my gaze, just thinking that I had been dazzled.   
Now no one would interfere with their time with Florence. They should be happy, not sad.  
Whether they were happy or sad, it no longer concerned me.
I began preparing for work and arranging Cherry’s enrollment, I was so busy that I had no time to rest .  
One day, I suddenly received a call from Tommy’s homeroom teacher.  
“Tommy’s mother, there’s something I need to discuss with you. Has something happened to Tommy? He’s usually such a well-behaved child, but lately he’s been getting into arguments and fights with his classmates…”  
I hadn’t heard from the father and son in about two months.
Upon hearing this, I felt unusually calm.  
“We’ve divorced. Tommy isn’t under my care anymore. Please contact his parents for any matters regarding him.”  
The homeroom teacher was taken aback; “He only left your phone number and told us to contact you.”  
“I’m not his mother.”  
I hung up the phone immediately.


A week later, I picked Cherry up from school.
We ate dinner outside and strolled home slowly.
We stepped out of the elevator.
“Mom,” Cherry gently squeezed my palm.
I sensed her little gesture. Tommy, who was standing at the front door, heard the sound and quickly looked up, meeting my gaze.
“Mom,” Tommy called out to me with a delighted look in his eyes.
I didn't respond to him.
He ran over, his eyes pleading, and called out again:
“Mom, it's me, it's Tommy.”
I held Cherry's hand with one hand and carried her small backpack with the other, shaking my head calmly.
“I'm not your mom.”
Tommy stubbornly refused to let us in:  
“Mom, you’re angry with me, aren’t you? I’ll be good from now on. I won’t fight with others anymore. Don’t abandon me.”  
“It’s all their fault. They said you don’t want me anymore, that I’m a child without a mother, so I hit them.”  
Looking at his tear-stained eyes, I stood on the opposite side for the first time.
“They weren’t wrong. I do not want you anymore. Do

8