The Uninvited Guest

Today is Greta's fifth birthday. I had been preparing for this birthday party a week in advance—booking Greta's favorite pink castle-themed banquet hall, buying the princess cake she had been longing for all month, and inviting her kindergarten friends, along with our relatives. Kenneth Campbell, dressed in a crisply tailored suit, stood at the banquet hall entrance to welcome guests, a polite smile gracing his face. I held Greta's hand; she wore a voluminous princess dress, a small crown perched atop her head, her eyes shining as if they held stars within. "Mom, Daddy looks so handsome today." Greta looked up at me with her little face and said. I touched her head and managed a smile. In truth, over the past six months, Kenneth Campbell had been coming home later and later, occasionally carrying a scent of perfume that wasn't mine, and his phone was always set to silent in his pocket. I never truly doubted, but looking at Greta's innocent face, I ultimately could not bring myself to ask. I was afraid to shatter this fragile peace, afraid that Greta might be hurt. The banquet was lively; children chased and ran about, while the adults exchanged everyday conversation. Greta was surrounded by her friends, her laughter shining with particular joy. I watched her, my heart swelling with tenderness. She is my daughter, the one I will protect with all my strength. At last, it was time to blow out the candles. A waiter wheeled the cake in, the lights dimmed, leaving only the flickering glow of the candles atop the cake. Everyone sang the birthday song together, Greta clasped her hands tightly, earnestly making a wish. I stood beside her, Kenneth Campbell on the other side. I thought this would be a perfect evening. But just as Greta was about to blow out the candles, Kenneth spoke. His voice was low, yet it carried clearly across the entire Banquet Hall. "Rachel, let's get a divorce." Time seemed to stand still in that moment. The cheerful singing stopped abruptly; all eyes turned to us. I was stunned, unable to believe what I had just heard. I looked at Kenneth Campbell; his gaze was calm, even tinged with a trace of relief. "Dad, what are you saying?" Greta put down her hands, looking at Kenneth Campbell with innocent confusion. Kenneth Campbell crouched down, trying to reach for Greta's head, but she dodged away. "Greta, your mother and I are going to separate." Kenneth Campbell's tone was as gentle as he could manage. "From now on, I will bring a new lady home; you should try to accept her, alright?" Only then did I notice a woman standing in the corner of the banquet hall. She wore a white dress, her makeup carefully done, watching us with a faint, ambiguous smile. It was only later that I learned her name was Aurora Depp. "No! I don't want a new mom! I want Mom and Dad to be together!" Greta suddenly burst into tears. Her cries were sharp and full of sorrow, tearing through the silence of the banquet hall. Our relatives began whispering among themselves; some cast sympathetic glances my way, while others muttered and pointed at Kenneth Campbell. A chill ran through my entire body, as if my blood had frozen solid. Anger, shame, despair—an overwhelming tide of emotions surged within me. I fixed my gaze on Kenneth Campbell, the man I had loved and stood by for eight years. He actually announced his desire for a divorce in front of all our family and friends at Greta's birthday party, and demanded that Greta accept his mistress. "Kenneth Campbell, are you crazy?" I asked, my voice hoarse.