My Ex Tried to Take Our Son—But Her Biggest Mistake Was Underestimating Me

A chest of drawers | Source: Midjourney

When we reconvened, I could feel the tension in the room. The air was thick with it. She sat across from me, her face unreadable. Then the judge spoke. He said he needed to hear from him. My heart stopped. He was so young. How could they put that burden on him? They brought him in, a small figure in a too-formal shirt, his eyes wide and a little scared. My gut twisted. I wanted to run to him, scoop him up, tell him everything would be okay.

The judge asked him questions, gentle, probing. Do you love your mommy? Do you love your daddy? Where do you like to live? He answered shyly, his voice barely a whisper. My breath hitched in my throat as he looked over at me, a fleeting smile, a reassurance. He loves me. He knows I’m fighting for him.

Then the judge asked the final question. “Who do you want to live with, son?”

A woman lounging on a couch | Source: Midjourney

Silence. The entire courtroom held its breath. My gaze locked on my son’s face. He chewed his lip, glanced at her, then back at me. I could feel the hope, the fear, the desperation warring inside me. He would choose me. He had to. We were a team. We always had been.

He took a deep breath. He looked right at me, his small face filled with a gravity far beyond his years. And then he said it. Not in a whisper, not in a mumble. Clearly. Confidently.

“I want to live with her.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. A sudden, jarring impact that stole my breath, emptied my lungs. I felt a cold shock spread through my entire body. NO. IT CAN’T BE. HE’S LYING. HE’S CONFUSED. I must have made a sound, a choked gasp, because the judge looked at me sharply.

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