Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 519

Harrison’s eyes froze the moment he saw the shirt Dames was holding.

Dames looked up at him. “Daph gave this to me, Daddy. Do you remember this shirt?”

Since the divorce from Selene, Harrison had rarely let himself dwell on the past. He’d convinced himself that those people—and those memories—were irrelevant now, blurry and distant. Yet in this moment, faces and scenes he’d long since buried surged back with startling clarity.

He remembered Dames’s birthday party, how he’d barely spared Selene a glance, his gaze cold and impassive as it swept over her. He’d thought he hadn’t noticed her at all, but now, cursing himself, he realized every detail was seared into his memory, playing back in slow motion—the way her bangs clung damply to her forehead, tiny droplets of rain clinging to her shoulder from when she’d held an umbrella over Daph outside. She’d entered the room with that bare, unadorned face, looking a little numb, her eyes fixed on Dames. Only when Dames mentioned Harrison had Selene looked over, her gaze dull and lifeless as it brushed past him.

She hadn’t loved him for a long, long time.

He’d been oblivious to the change in her feelings—too wrapped up in his own world to notice his wife slipping away.

Snapping back to the present, Harrison watched as Dames curled up on the bed, clutching Selene’s shirt to his chest.

“Tonight, I get to sleep with Mommy’s shirt,” Dames murmured contentedly. “I feel so happy.”

A faint scoff escaped Harrison. Children were so easily satisfied—just a piece of clothing could fill their little hearts with happiness.

Dames buried half his face in the fabric, his features relaxing, no longer shadowed by the anger and grief that so often haunted him.

“Why did Daph give you that shirt?” Harrison asked. “Did Selene ask her to?”

Once the room was quiet, Dames curled into a ball, clutching Selene’s shirt as if it could shield him from the world. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried to imagine himself back in the warmth of his mother’s embrace. The feeling burned in his heart, but his skin remained cold.

The thought that he would never feel Selene’s arms around him again sent hot tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

Late into the night, the door creaked open. Harrison stepped inside and gently pried the shirt from Dames’s grasp.

He’d had someone buy another shirt—identical in every way. Selene’s clothes were all off-the-rack; if they had been custom-made, an exact replacement would have been impossible to find on short notice.

He tucked the new shirt into Dames’s arms, and as he turned to leave, he heard the boy murmur softly in his sleep, “Mommy…”