Asami Saza pov
The weekend had arrived, which meant it was their dad's turn to take care of the kids from Friday night until Sunday night. As I set up everything near the door for him and the kids, I finished packing Kenjire's backpack with three sets of pajamas, three outfits, his underwear, and his toothbrush. He also had some books, toys, and other things he liked to bring with him. Then, I checked Saki's diaper bag and her small toy bag to ensure she had everything she needed.
As I heard footsteps, I looked behind me and saw Kenjire. "Mama, do I have to go to Daddy's?" he asked. This happened every weekend. Kenjire hated going with his father, probably because he knew about his father's abusive and toxic behavior towards me.
One time, when Kenjire was only five, my ex and I got into a huge fight. He ended up on top of me, beating me and causing me to have a seizure. Throughout the whole ordeal, Kenjire was watching and ended up being the one to call 911. I suffered from a lot of blood loss and was put into a medically induced coma for a year. It's worth noting that I was pregnant during the entire traumatic experience.
I used to suffer from extreme PTSD and anxiety disorders. Although I am a fortunate person, I sometimes have seizures. This doesn't worry me, but it seems that the courts don't see things from my perspective. Despite my efforts, I was not granted full guardianship of my children. Their father had weekend visitation rights and always seemed to get away with things.
As I spoke, I thought to myself, "You know the rules. You have to go to your father's every other weekend."
He nodded and told me he understood. "Is Daddy doing anything wrong?" I asked. He shook his head no. Before he went to see Saki, who was playing in her playpen, I heard footsteps and someone pounding on my door. It was my ex, Nitta, an awful man. I hope my little boy never grows up to be like him. "Your dad's here," I said as Kenjire walked over. I took Saki out of the playpen and handed her to him. In the other hand, he grabbed the bags. "Come on, Kenjire. It's time to get out of this dump," he said rudely. Kenjire ran and gave me a hug. "Have fun, sweetheart," I said as I kissed his forehead before he left. Once he was gone, I locked the door and started to tear up. I hated this part. I thought to myself that he didn't adore my kids.
It was yet another weekend during which the children had to spend time with their father. As always, I carefully prepared their backpacks, making sure they had enough clothes, toys, and books to keep them comfortable and entertained during their stay. Despite my efforts, I couldn't shake off the dread that consumed me every time they had to leave. The reason for my anxiety was simple: their father has a history of being abusive and toxic towards me.
The last time my children and I had to leave, their father and I had a huge fight that resulted in him physically assaulting me in front of them. Needless to say, it was a traumatic experience for all of us. Despite my pleas, the court only granted him weekend visitation rights. Meanwhile, I was left to deal with the aftermath of the abuse: physical injuries, PTSD, and anxiety disorder, all of which affected my ability to function normally.
As I hugged my son goodbye, I couldn't help but worry about his well-being. I knew he was too young to understand the implications of the situation. He probably assumed that it was normal for parents to live apart and have separate lives. I wished I could tell him the truth, but I didn't want to burden him with my problems.
After they left, I was alone with my thoughts. Memories of the past flooded my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. I wished things could be different, that I had the strength to fight back and protect my children. But for now, all I could do was wait until their return, hoping that they were safe and sound.
