I’m Mariko (38). My husband, Yoshihiro (38), and I have a family of four with our son, Yuma, and daughter, Rina. I mean, I guess he’s a decent father. There are definitely moments when I feel truly grateful for the family we have. But out of nowhere, flashbacks of how he treated me in the past hit me, and no matter what I do, I just can’t shake the resentment. Even when we’re all having fun together, the moment I think, “This man doesn’t actually care about me or the kids,” my heart turns ice-cold. It all happened right around the time Yuma was finally starting to walk.
We were supposed to watch a sports game with my in-laws and then head to a restaurant for dinner. My husband said a stroller would just get in the way, so we left it behind, and I took Yuma on the train, holding him the whole time.
The restaurant was a bit far from the venue, and carrying Yuma since morning had already pushed my back past its limit. To make matters worse, my shoes were rubbing my feet raw, putting me in absolute misery. Meanwhile, my husband had been drinking with his family during the game, so he was happily buzzed and didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to me or Yuma.
The second I looked away, I lost sight of him and his family—and ended up completely stranded.