The Butterfly Effect of My Divorce
Language: en
In the spring of the fifth year after our divorce. Arthur and I unexpectedly crossed paths at a tattoo studio. He was there to touch up the color of his beloved's name tattooed on his chest. I was there to cover up the old scars on my wrist. After five years of separation, we looked at each other in silence. After a moment of silence, Arthur was just about to speak when a pair of small hands grabbed the hem of his shirt. "Daddy." The little boy looked at me curiously: "Who is she?"