A Little Discipline

Reading the text message on my phone screen in the dim light of the theater, I knew Hazel was faking her stomachache to manipulate Declan and me. It was a classic trick my young daughter had used countless times to play me for a fool in my previous life. Back then, I would have panicked, shoved my belongings into my purse, and rushed out of the cinema in a cold sweat, desperate to be the perfect mother. She would weaponize her faux illnesses to ruin my rare moments of peace, and I had fallen for it every single time. Now, without a single ounce of panic, I simply stared at the notification. I tapped the screen and typed a quick text back to Declan: *Take her to the hospital yourself.* I hit send, tossed the phone back into my bag, and returned my attention to finish the movie. The flashing lights on the screen reflected in my eyes, but my mind was at ease.

Walking out of the theater later, the crisp night air hit my face. Audrey and I strolled down the bustling street, passing groups of people heading to bars and late-night cafes. As we walked, Audrey nudged my elbow and pointed with her chin. I noticed how the passing guys stared at my figure. One man walking in the opposite direction twisted his neck so far to look at my legs that he bumped straight into his friend. Audrey laughed.

"Guess pretty girls make guys go brain-dead," Audrey joked, shaking her head. "Serena, Declan is seriously lucky. I bet the second he laid eyes on your face and body, he was dying to get you into bed every night, huh?"

I merely smiled a tight, knowing smile. My cheeks warmed, but not from the compliment. If only she knew the humiliating truth. I was the one desperate for a touch, practically begging for physical intimacy, while he treated me like a ghost in our own home. I swallowed that bitter reality and kept my voice steady. "You will get it when you have a boyfriend," I told her.

"Get what?" Audrey asked, blinking in confusion.

"Time passes, and eventually, even the hottest girl stops turning her own man's head," I warned her, my tone sobering. "Never pin too much hope on men."

Audrey frowned, sensing the deep bitterness in my voice. Her playful demeanor faded into genuine concern. "I get it," she murmured. "Lately, I have been handling several divorce cases at the firm. Those wives are stunners, flawless from head to toe, and yet the guys still strayed. Can you believe that?" She paused, studying my face under the glow of a streetlamp. She tentatively asked, "Serena... is Declan having affairs?"

I swallowed my battered pride. A sharp pang hit my chest, but I masked it. Knowing full well he had just started secretly dating Chloe, I lied straight to her face to save my own dignity. Word could not get out, not yet. "I don't think so," I replied smoothly.

Returning home late that night, I parked in the driveway and noticed the lights still blazing. I walked through the front door to find my mother pacing the living room. She looked exhausted, carrying Hazel on her back. The second Hazel saw me step into the entryway, her sleepy demeanor vanished. She shoved my mother away. "Put me down!" she demanded.

"Honey, let me help you get to bed," my mother coaxed, reaching out. "Your mom still needs to take a shower."

"Not Grandma! I want Mommy," Hazel whined, slapping my mother's hands away. "Grandma, go upstairs and sleep. Leave me alone!"

Before my mother could say another word, Hazel ran over and latched tightly onto my leg. I looked down at her, expecting a complaint about her fake stomachache. Instead, she glared up at me and demanded to know why I was home so late. She asked, "Mommy, were you cheating?"

I didn't hesitate. I reached down and slapped her lightly across the face. The crisp sound echoed off the living room walls. I coldly demanded to know who had taught her to say that kind of garbage.

Hazel froze. Tears instantly spilled over her cheeks. She clutched her stinging face, her eyes wide with betrayal. "You hit me!" she whimpered, her bottom lip trembling. She backed away from my leg, turned, and ran up the stairs sobbing.

My mother gasped, rushing forward. She started scolding me. "Serena! Why did you snap at her the moment you walked in? She is way too young to even understand what that word means! She probably heard it on a television show. You cannot slap a child!"

I stared back at my mother, unfazed by her scolding. "She needs to learn boundaries."

My mother shook her head, insisting I go easy on her. But I knew better. Hazel's upbringing needed a total, ruthless reset. In my past life, I had coddled her, turning a blind eye to her disrespect. I decided right then I would much rather have her resent me now than pour out my unconditional love only to be betrayed by her again in the future.

Leaving my mother in the living room, I walked upstairs. The heavy sound of Hazel's crying echoed down the hallway. I found Declan sitting on the bench in the kids' room, holding our sobbing daughter tightly against his chest. It looked like he had been waiting just for me. Hazel was clinging to his neck, burying her face in his collar.

"Daddy, my cheek hurts so bad," Hazel whimpered dramatically, pitching her voice so I could hear every word. She peeked at me over his shoulder, her eyes full of malice, and asked, "Is Mom trying to kill me?"

I stood in the doorway, folding my arms across my chest. I replied with ice in my veins, telling her that if a little slap could kill her, then she was just wasting good oxygen.

Declan glared at me, his jaw tight. "Serena, we need to talk," he snapped. He set Hazel down, patted her head, and sent her to her room. "Go to your room. I will be in shortly to read you a bedtime story." Hazel stomped into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

He stood up and followed me down the hall to our master bedroom. I didn't glance back at him. I walked straight in, sat down gracefully at my vanity, and began removing my earrings. I caught my reflection in the mirror. I wore a sleek, tight dress that hugged every curve of my body. My thick, long hair cascaded down my back in natural loose curls. I deliberately projected an effortless, sultry confidence that he usually brushed off.

He stood behind me, his reflection towering over mine. He demanded to know why I had hit Hazel. "She is just a little kid," he argued, his voice rising. "Even if she did something wrong, a few words would have been enough. You simply do not hit a child in the face. She has feelings too!"

I dropped my earrings onto the glass tray with a soft clink. Leaning back against the vanity, I met his furious gaze in the mirror. I told him he clearly hadn't heard what she said to me, explaining she accused me of cheating because I came home late.

"No matter what she said—" he started to argue.

I cut him off, offering a faint, calculated smile. I told him that cheating was no small thing. If a rumor like that got out, it would trash both of our reputations.

The specific word clearly struck a nerve. His face darkened in the mirror. The righteous anger faded into something far more defensive. It made perfect sense since he was the actual cheater in the room. Hearing his own crime vocalized by his child and thrown back at him by his wife rattled his cage.

Still, he dug his heels in and made excuses for her young age. "Hazel is little. She doesn't get what that means."

I looked down at my worn hands, studying the skin that had been sacrificed to keep his perfect household running. I firmly told him that if I didn't aggressively control her behavior now, she would grow into a total nightmare.

"It is your job to raise her right!" he shot back, trying to shift the blame onto my shoulders.

I laid down my boundary. I met his eyes again, refusing to back down. "I get that. But when I am disciplining her, you need to stay out of it. You can play the fun dad all you want, but I will be the strict mom. Do not undermine me."

Rattled by my refusal to shoulder the blame and play the guilty wife, his perfectly handsome face froze. He was so used to me crumbling under his disapproval, apologizing for my mere existence. Realizing he couldn't win this argument, he turned toward the door to leave.

He paused at the threshold, glancing back at me with a cold, dismissive look. He ordered me to go take a shower, adding that he'd be in after he tucked Hazel in.

I pause, staring at the door as he leaves. He said he'd 'be in'—was that supposed to be some kind of favor to me?