After his wife’s death, a struggling father became both Mom and Dad to his only daughter. But in her desperate need to fit in with her wealthy friends, she resented his job and told him he wasn’t enough. Then one day, she opened the final gift he’d saved for her… and it shattered her heart.
Paul wiped down the last table of his evening shift, his calloused hands moving in practiced circles. Around him, waiters in crisp white shirts glided between tables, carrying plates of food that cost more than what he made in a day.
A man wiping a table in a restaurant | Source: Pexels
“Hey Paul, you almost done, man? Chef wants to know if you can stay late tonight. The Hendersons are here.” Marcus, the head waiter, straightened his already perfect tie.
Paul glanced at his watch—8:15 p.m. His 16-year-old daughter, Samara, would be home alone. Overtime meant extra money, and they desperately needed that. However, Paul wasn’t in a spot to extend his shift.
“Sorry, Marcus. I can’t tonight. My daughter…”
Marcus nodded with understanding. “No problem. We’ll manage. See you tomorrow!”
“Always,” Paul replied with a tired smile.
A teenage girl lying on a mattress | Source: Pexels
The restaurant was in Westlake Heights, where houses looked like miniature castles. It was a far cry from the modest apartment he and Samara shared in River Bend, a neighborhood that had been up and coming for decades.
Paul’s beat-up Corolla protested as he turned the key. If traffic was kind, he’d be home by 9:00 p.m., just in time to see Samara before she retreated to her room for the night.
The drive home was always bittersweet. It had been five years since Elizabeth’s death, five years of being both mother and father, and five years of watching Samara drift like a boat with no anchor.
Elizabeth had been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer when Samara was 11. The doctors gave her six months and she fought for nine.
A cancer patient sitting in a hospital ward | Source: Pexels
Paul remembered those final days with painful clarity—the hospital smell, the steady beep of monitors, and Elizabeth squeezing his hand one last time, whispering, “Take care of our little girl.”
He had promised, but lately he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing.
***
Paul pulled into the apartment complex parking lot at 8:50 p.m. He unlocked the door quietly, hoping to find Samara studying or watching TV. Instead, darkness and silence greeted him.
“Sam? Sweetie, I’m home… Samara?” he called, flipping on the light.
The living room was empty. The plate of lasagna he’d prepared sat untouched on the counter and his phone buzzed with a text from Samara:
“At Lily’s. Studying. Be home late. Don’t wait up.”
A man looking at his phone | Source: Pexels
Paul’s shoulders slumped. Lily was the daughter of an affluent industrialist, and they lived in a mansion with an indoor pool and a home theater. She had everything Samara wanted… designer clothes, the latest gadgets, and parents who could afford to give her the world.
With a heavy sigh, he texted: “It’s a school night. Be home by 10. And did you take your pepper spray?”
Paul watched the screen and the typing bubbles blinked on.
“Whatever. I’m not some helpless little girl. It’s not the damn 1950s. 🙄“
He exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that carried more than just air. But he didn’t text back. He knew better by now.
A disheartened man sitting on the chair | Source: Pexels
Paul ate alone, scrolling through the old photos on his phone… pictures of Elizabeth, healthy and laughing, and the three of them at the beach and Disneyland. They looked like a different family—happy, complete, and untouched by grief and financial struggle.
At 10:30 p.m., Samara walked in. At 16, she was the spitting image of her mother with the same hazel eyes and delicate nose. Her long brown hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and she wore a pink sweater Paul didn’t recognize.
“You’re late!”
Samara rolled her eyes. “It’s only THIRTY minutes.”
Cropped shot of a girl wearing a pink sweater and blue jeans | Source: Pexels
“We had an agreement, Sam. Home by ten on school nights.”
“God, Dad, I was studying with Lily. Her parents ordered pizza and insisted I stay for dinner.”
Paul noticed the logo on her sweater that belonged to an upscale boutique. “Is that new?”
“Lily gave it to me. She was going to donate it anyway. It’s not a big deal.”
But it was. Paul knew pride was all they had sometimes, and accepting hand-me-downs from her wealthy friend felt like another reminder of what he couldn’t provide.
A depressed man | Source: Pexels
“Oh, and I need $75 for the science museum field trip next week,” Samara added.
Paul felt his stomach tighten. That meant cutting back on groceries or skipping a bill payment. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, forcing a smile.
“Lily invited me to her family’s lake house this weekend,” Samara continued, her hand already on her doorknob.
“This weekend? I thought we could visit Mom’s grave on Saturday.”
Something flickered across her face… pain, guilt, or perhaps just annoyance. “Do we have to? I sometimes go on my own.”
“You do?” This surprised Paul.
“Sometimes,” Samara repeated vaguely before disappearing into her room.
A grieving young lady mourning beside a loved one’s grave | Source: Freepik
While driving through town the next day, Paul passed the bustling shopping district of Westlake Heights. He spotted Samara outside Gadgets & Gizmos, staring intently at something in the display window before walking away with a deep sigh.
Curious, Paul approached the storefront. The window featured a crystal ballerina figurine priced at $390. His heart sank at the number, but he wondered how many times she’d walked by just to stare at it.
Inside the store, a salesperson approached. “Can I help you find something?”
“I’m curious about the crystal figurine in the window,” Paul said.
“Excellent taste! The ballerina is limited edition… only fifty were made worldwide.”
A crystal ballerina figurine on a store display | Source: Midjourney
After leaving the store, Paul called his friend Miguel, who worked at a glass factory. “Miguel, you mentioned they sometimes need extra hands. Is that offer still good?”
“Sure, buddy. They’re looking for weekend shift workers right now.”
“I’ll take it,” Paul said without hesitation.
***
For the next month, he worked six days a week, putting in hours at the restaurant Monday through Friday and at the factory on Saturdays. The factory work was physically demanding, leaving his hands cramped and his back stiff with pain.
A man showing his greasy hands | Source: Pexels
Samara noticed his exhaustion. “You should find better work,” she commented one evening. “Lily’s dad says there are always janitorial positions at the hospital. At least they have benefits.”
“I’m fine with my current job, dear,” Paul replied, not revealing his second employment. “The Winter Carnival is coming up, right? Do you want to go?”
“Maybe. Lily’s already got her dress. It cost, like, $550.” Samara studied his reaction. “But I don’t need anything fancy. There’s this dress at the mall for $55 that would work.”
Paul nodded. “We can look into it. I’ve been picking up extra hours, so we might be able to manage it.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Samara’s face, replaced by a tentative smile. “Really? You mean it?”
“Of course. You should experience these things. Your mom would want that.”
A teenage girl with a fragile smile | Source: Pexels
By the end of the month, Paul had saved just over $400. It was enough for the figurine, and the idea of seeing Samara’s face light up made every ache and overtime shift worth it.
On Saturday, after his factory shift, Paul purchased the crystal ballerina. Watching the salesperson wrap it, he couldn’t stop picturing Samara’s face.
***
She was watching TV when he arrived home and she barely glanced up as he entered.
“Sweetie,” Paul said, his heart pounding. “I have something for you.”
A man holding a gift box | Source: Pexels
She finally looked at him, her expression curious but guarded.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed.
With a slight eye roll, Samara complied, holding out her hands. Paul placed the wrapped box in her palms and watched her face carefully.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
“A gift? It’s not my birthday!”
“Go on, honey. Open it!”
Samara peeled the ribbon off, barely glancing at it, and tore open the paper.
Close-up shot of a young girl opening a present | Source: Pexels
She stared at the figurine, her eyebrows knitted with confusion.
“Seriously?” she said, holding it like it might break just from being looked at.
“Do you like it?” Paul asked, his smile faltering. “I saw you looking at it in the store window.”
“You saw me at the store?”
“A few weeks ago. You were standing outside Gadgets & Gizmos.”
“You thought I was looking at THIS? A glass doll? You think I’m five?”
A young lady standing outside a store | Source: Midjourney
“It’s a ballerina. Like Mom used to be. Like you were… I thought you…”
“I haven’t danced in years, Dad. What am I supposed to do with this? It’s just going to sit on a shelf collecting dust.”
Paul felt a sharp pang in his chest. “I thought it would be special. Something to remember your mother by. I thought you… liked it.”
“If you want me to remember Mom, show me pictures. Tell me stories. Don’t spend a fortune on some useless decoration.”
A young lady with her arms crossed | Source: Pexels
Samara stood abruptly. “You know what I was actually looking at that day? The phone. The one every single person at school has except me.”
Paul blinked, confused. “Phone?”
“Yeah. It was right there next to this stupid ballerina. Eighteen hundred bucks with tax. But sure, let’s blow $390 on a stupid glass doll I didn’t ask for!”
“And this isn’t?” Samara gestured with the crystal piece. “What were you thinking? That I’d put this in my room and suddenly everything would be better? That I’d stop being embarrassed about our apartment, your job, and our old car?”
Expensive mobile phones on display | Source: Pexels
“Samara, please—”
But she wasn’t listening. “Do you know what it’s like being the only kid at school whose dad is a busboy? Whose mom is dead? Whose clothes come from discount stores or rich friends’ castoffs?”
“I’m trying my best, sweetie…” Paul said softly, his eyes glassy.
“Well, your best isn’t enough! You should have never had a child if you couldn’t give her a decent life! You’re a living, walking, breathing failure, Dad! You hear me…?”
A frustrated girl holding her head | Source: Pexels
And then, in a moment that seemed to unfold in slow motion, Samara hurled the crystal ballerina to the floor. It shattered with a sharp, crystalline sound, glistening fragments scattering across the worn carpet.
Paul stared at the broken pieces, tears welling in his eyes. “Samara… what did you do?”
She stormed to her room, the door slamming shut a second later.
A heartbroken man looking at the floor | Source: Pexels
Paul stood in the silence she left behind, his eyes fixed on the glinting wreckage. With trembling hands and a heart that felt like it had cracked wide open, he knelt and began gathering the shards.
One sharp edge sliced his finger, drawing a thin line of crimson, but he didn’t flinch. He just kept going.
He dropped the pieces into the plastic bin one by one, each clink sounding louder than the last.
Grayscale shot of glass shards | Source: Pexels
Then, the tears came… loud, heavy, and unstoppable. He sank onto the couch, his eyes fixed on the framed photo of Elizabeth on the shelf.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I tried. I swear I tried. But I failed her. I failed both of you.”
An eerie silence swallowed the room, broken only by the steady ticking of the clock and Paul’s muffled sobs.
After a long moment, he wiped his face with the back of his hand. His eyes were swollen, but there was something steady in them now. He got up, picked his empty wallet off the counter, and stared at it like it held the answer to everything.
He didn’t know how yet… but he was going to get her that phone.
A shattered man staring at the ceiling | Source: Pexels
For the next three months, Paul worked nearly every day, often taking double shifts. He saw Samara only in passing, with brief exchanges in the morning or late at night. Their conversations were stilted, carefully avoiding any mention of the crystal ballerina incident.
Finally, after 92 days of relentless work, Paul had saved enough for the phone. On a sunny Thursday afternoon, he drove to Gadgets & Gizmos, his heart pounding with anticipation.
The same salesperson helped him. “Back for another special gift?”
“Yes, I want that phone,” Paul said, feeling both pride and nervousness.
A salesman in the store | Source: Pexels
“Excellent choice! Would you like it in Midnight Black or Stellar Silver?”
“Which is more popular with teenagers?”
“Definitely the Stellar Silver.”
“I’ll take it.”
The phone was wrapped in vibrant blue paper with a silver bow. As Paul left the store, he felt lighter than he had in months. He couldn’t wait to see Samara’s face when she opened this gift.
A blue gift box with a silver bow | Source: Midjourney
Maybe they’d order pizza to celebrate, or watch a movie together like they used to. Something silly she’d pretend to hate but secretly loved. Maybe she’d hug him without pulling away, and for a moment, she’d be that little girl again who used to chirp, “I love you, Daddy!” every time he brought home her favorite candy.
Maybe… just maybe, she’d be proud of him.
Paul was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the car running the red light until it was too late. He stepped into the crosswalk just as the vehicle barreled through the intersection. There was a screech of tires, a sickening impact… and then darkness.
Aerial view of speeding vehicles on a street | Source: Unsplash
Samara was walking to her classroom when her phone buzzed with an unknown number. After ignoring several calls, she finally answered.
“Is this Samara? This is Nurse Jenkins from Westlake Memorial Hospital. I’m calling about your father, Paul.”
Samara stopped walking, her blood turning cold. “My… father?”
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident. Your father was hit by a car. We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible.”
Samara stood frozen in the hallway, her pulse roaring in her ears. For a second, she couldn’t speak or move… just stared at the lockers across from her like they might tell her it wasn’t real.
A young lady holding her phone | Source: Unsplash
“Wait… what happened? Is he okay?” she asked but the nurse had already hung up.
Samara’s sneakers squeaked against the tile as she burst into the class. Lily looked up in alarm, halfway through a worksheet.
“Lily, I need you. It’s my dad… he’s in the hospital.”
Without asking another question, Lily grabbed her backpack and followed her out.
***
The car ride was a blur. Samara stared straight ahead, knuckles white against her thighs. She didn’t say much, just whispered, “Drive faster,” and wiped her face with her sleeve when she thought Lily wasn’t looking.
A speeding car on the road | Source: Unsplash
At the hospital, Samara rushed to the front desk, her voice already trembling. “My dad… Paul. He was in an accident. Please… can I see him?”
A doctor appeared from the double doors, his expression grave.
“You must be his daughter,” he said, stepping closer.
Samara’s stomach dropped.
A doctor holding a file | Source: Pexels
“Samara? I’m Dr. Reese. Let’s sit down.”
“Just tell me if he’s okay.”
“I’m very sorry. Your father sustained severe trauma from the impact. Despite our best efforts, he passed away a few minutes ago.”
The words didn’t make sense. Her father couldn’t be gone. He was invincible, always there, always working… and always trying.
“No. That’s not right. Check again. Please.”
Grayscale shot of a startled girl’s eyes | Source: Pexels
“Would you like to see him?”
Samara nodded numbly, allowing herself to be led to a quiet room. Her father lay on a bed, his face peaceful but unnaturally still.
“Dad?” she whispered. “Dad, I’m here.”
No response came. The reality began to sink in, wave after crushing wave of grief and regret.
“Dad?” Samara stepped closer to the hospital bed. “No, no… no. Dad, please… wake up.”
She clutched his hand, cold and still. “Don’t do this to me. Dad? Dad?”
The beeping of machines filled the silence Paul wasn’t breaking.
A man lying still | Source: Pexels
A nurse entered quietly, carrying a plastic bag. “These are your father’s personal effects. And this was with him at the time of the accident.” She handed Samara a gift-wrapped package, its blue paper stained with crimson streaks.
Inside was a box for the phone… the exact model she had coveted for months. Attached to it was a handwritten note:
“Sweetheart,
I know you’re ashamed to be my daughter, but I’ve always been proud to be your father. Hope this makes you happy & hope you forgive me… for everything. I’m trying. But I need some time to be able to get back on my feet again. But I promise to make you happy… even if it would cost my life.
Love, Dad.”
A primal scream tore from Samara’s throat. “He worked extra shifts,” she gasped between sobs. “He was working himself to death for this stupid phone. For me.”
A girl crying | Source: Pexels
In the days that followed, Samara moved through the funeral arrangements in a fog of grief. The restaurant staff and glass factory workers attended the service, sharing stories of Paul’s dedication.
“Your dad talked about you all the time,” Miguel told her. “Every shift, he’d say how this extra money was going to make his girl happy.”
After the funeral, Samara returned to the empty apartment. In the kitchen trash, she spotted a familiar glint… fragments of the crystal ballerina. With painstaking care, she collected every piece she could find.
A lonely young lady sitting on the floor in her house | Source: Pexels
Over the next few days, she worked meticulously with super glue, piecing the ballerina back together. It was imperfect. The cracks were visible and some tiny pieces were missing. But there was beauty in its brokenness… a reminder of what had been lost and could never be fully restored.
Samara placed the repaired ballerina on her bedside table, next to a framed photo of her parents.
The new phone remained in its box, untouched in her desk drawer. She couldn’t bear to use it, knowing the cost had been so much higher than dollars and cents.
Close-up shot of a phone in a box | Source: Unsplash
That night, as the apartment sat quiet, Samara opened her old phone and typed a message to her dad’s number.
“I’m proud of you, Dad.”
She hit send, knowing it would go nowhere. But seeing his name light up on the screen one last time… it felt like he was still with her, if only for a moment.
A girl using her phone | Source: Pexels
When I Brought a New Woman to a Party After My Divorce, My Ex-wife Blurted, ‘You Idiot!’ & Burst into Laughter
Marcus thought he’d done everything right after deciding to divorce his wife, Izzy. But his new girlfriend’s presence at his daughter’s 15th birthday party ended up with cackling laughs, a terrible slap, and a revelation he never expected.
I thought I was on the correct path when someone new and exciting came into my life. It was impulsive and fast, but it felt like the right thing, and it ruined everything.
After 20 years of marriage to Isabel, or “Izzy” to everyone who knew her well, I’d thought there would be no excitement left in life. Nothing new. But then, out of the blue, I met Jenna at a friend’s board game night that my wife didn’t attend.
A woman at a board game party | Source: Midjourney
Before you get any ideas, I’m 49. My wife is 47, and Jenna is 46. This isn’t the typical story of a man who leaves his wife for a young girl.
Jenna felt like someone had lit a spark in me I didn’t even know I’d lost. We just clicked. I can’t explain it in a less cliché way. But I knew one thing for certain: I would never cheat on my wife.
So, I faced the difficult choice of picking between 20 years of loyalty and two kids versus the chance of a new romance. It would’ve been a no-brainer for most people.
A businessman thinking | Source: Midjourney
But it felt right, especially after I ran into Jenna at two different coffee shops, and even the supermarket, days after the party. It was fate, so impulse took over.
I told Izzy I wanted a divorce. Remembering that day is still painful and makes me want to go back in time, like that scene in “Interstellar.”
“MAKE HIM STAY, MURPH!”
A man in an astronaut suit | Source: Midjourney
Anyway, it was late in the evening when I got home from work, and the house felt emptier than usual. I knew our daughter, Maya, was at volleyball practice. Our son, Caleb, had his own college dorm, but he was sometimes around. Not that night, though.
I’d been thinking about Jenna all day and felt guilt as I spotted my wife. She was going through some work emails, and when I walked in, she looked up with her familiar warm smile. I wished Izzy wouldn’t have grinned at me.
Before I knew it, the words tumbled out: “I think… I think we need to talk about us. About…me wanting a divorce.”
A man looking nervous as he speaks | Source: Midjourney
The smile on her face and the light in her eyes faded into blankness. She was quiet for a long time after, and I was almost grateful for that silence.
But when she finally spoke, her voice was steady but strained. “You’re serious? After twenty years, just like that? Out of the blue?”
I tried to explain, saying things like “We’ve grown apart” and “It’s not you, it’s me.” More clichés that tasted bitter in my mouth. Yet, Izzy listened without interrupting.
A woman looking serious | Source: Midjourney
Eventually, she nodded, a sad smile barely curving her lips. “If this is what you want, Marcus, I won’t stand in your way. I hope you never come to regret this.”
***
That night haunted me for weeks, but Jenna and I moved forward. And surprisingly, the divorce went smoothly. Caleb and Maya seemed to handle the news as well as they could.
It was also good timing because my son was 19 and my daughter was almost 15. They could understand more easily.
After I explained, they nodded and acted politely, though my daughter barely looked at me. Caleb wrinkled his nose several times.
A young man looking angry | Source: Midjourney
I knew I should’ve talked to them before jumping the gun, but I didn’t want to overthink it or spoil my chance at this piece of happiness.
Meanwhile, Jenna was a breath of fresh air. She made me feel younger, and freer, like I could finally be myself again. Our dates were amazing, and she was completely focused on me. I was the sun in her galaxy. That makes a man stand taller and, honestly, more confident.
After that, things just fell into place. The divorce was amicable, though lengthy because of all our assets and the laws in our state.
As man holding some documents and smiling slightly | Source: Midjourney
My kids were also adjusting seemingly okay, though Maya had to alternate between houses. But this was our new normal, and I was genuinely happy.
Months passed, and the divorce was finalized without an issue. So, when Maya’s 15th birthday came up, I thought long and hard but concluded that it was time to introduce Jenna to everyone.
It wasn’t the easiest decision because the party was being held at my ex-mother-in-law’s house, but many of my relatives would also be there. In my mind, it was the right time.
An older woman at the front porch of a nice house | Source: Midjourney
Jenna and I walked through the door, and many did double takes. Still, my family was friendly and welcoming while I introduced my beautiful girlfriend proudly.
As we moved deeper into the house, toward the backyard, I caught sight of David, Izzy’s brother. He looked us up and down as his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. I froze for a second.
But Jenna leaned into me, squeezing my arm, and whispered, “Ignore him.” I smiled at her, nodded at my still-scowling ex-brother-in-law, and finally stepped out into the backyard, where most of the attendees were.
A backyard where people are gathered for a party | Source: Midjourney
I was looking for Maya and Caleb, specifically. But I wasn’t distracted enough to not notice the immediate change in the air.
The chatter had stopped, and only the music from unseen speakers kept going. Instead of my children, I saw my ex-wife first.
She was by the drinks table, talking to some people until she noticed the atmosphere shift, too, and turned toward us. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked completely stunned as her eyes darted between me and Jenna.
A woman stunned at something standing to the side | Source: Midjourney
I expected the tension. I even thought she would be angry, but I was sure I could explain any trouble away. Except, without warning, Izzy blurted, “You idiot!” and burst into laughter. The sound was loud and uncontrollable.
I froze again, as everyone turned to her in confusion. My kids, who I finally noticed, had been at a table eating burgers, but they stood and looked just as perplexed as everyone else.
I looked at my girlfriend and noticed her smile had frozen. She looked around and swallowed, nervously. But before I could ask her or Izzy what was going on, I saw Gloria, Izzy’s mother, stomping toward us.
An older woman angry | Source: Midjourney
Her face was red with anger. She stopped just inches from Jenna and, without warning, slapped her hard across the face.
My girlfriend staggered back, her hand flying up to her cheek, eyes wide with shock. I moved forward, trying to shield her, but Gloria wasn’t finished.
“How dare you show your face here!” she screamed her fury at Jenna. “After everything you did to my daughter? You think you can walk in here?!”
“Gloria, what the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, trying to push her away gently.
A man looking confused and upset | Source: Midjourney
Suddenly, my ex-brother-in-law stepped forward and put his arms on Gloria to hold her back while glaring at Jenna with open hatred.
“You really don’t know, do you?” he spat, looking at me like I was the biggest fool on earth. “This woman,” he pointed at Jenna, “was Izzy’s high school bully. She tormented her, and it was relentless!”
My stomach twisted as I looked at Jenna, who was staring at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes. “Is… is this true?” I whispered.
Jenna hesitated, then nodded tightly. “Yes, but that was years ago. I was young and stupid…”
A woman looking serious | Source: Midjourney
David cut her off. “It wasn’t just high school, Marcus! She tried to get Izzy kicked out of college. Spread lies and accused her of cheating on exams and plagiarizing papers all her freshman year.”
I stepped back, shaking my head. “No, that can’t be,” I said, turning to Jenna. “Tell them that wasn’t you!”
“It was her,” David spat. “She almost destroyed my sister’s future because she was too stupid to get into college!”
A middle-aged man in front of an older woman looking angry | Source: Midjourney
Those words set fire to Jenna. “I WASN’T STUPID!” she yelled at him but quickly turned to me. “Yes, I did those things, Marcus. It’s true. But people change. Doesn’t that count for something?”
My head was spinning. “Did you know she was my wife when we met and kept running into each other?” I asked.
Jenna looked down and nodded.
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Gloria screamed, thrashing in David’s arms.
An upset older woman pointing | Source: Midjourney
“Please, Marcus. Leave with me, and I’ll explain everything,” Jenna said, trying to touch my arm, but I was done with her.
“No,” I said, and this time, my voice cracked.
A hard look came over her face. “You think you’re so perfect? You think you didn’t hurt anyone? You left your wife and kids just because you were bored. This isn’t all on me!”
A woman looking upset | Source: Midjourney
I don’t know if she said that out of spite, to hurt me, or to justify herself. But she turned and walked away with her head held high, though I could see the redness of her cheek from Gloria’s slap.
When she was out of sight, I noticed the entire backyard was silent. Everyone watched me, waiting for something.
There was pity in my relatives’ eyes, but contempt in Izzy’s side of the family. Caleb stood off to the side with his arms crossed and his face tight. Maya looked at me like I was a stranger.
A teenage girl, looking sad | Source: Midjourney
“Dad,” she whispered. “How could you?”
“Maya, I didn’t know any of this!” I cried out.
Caleb walked forward. “Honestly? You didn’t know?” he asked. My son had always been the suspicious type, always analyzing why people did or acted in certain ways.
“It doesn’t matter!” Maya continued angrily. “You broke our family for NOTHING!”
Those words hit me harder than anything else that day.
A man looking sad | Source: Midjourney
I’d spent months convincing myself I was doing the right thing. That it was meant to be because things were going so smoothly. Everyone seemed happy!
But my kids weren’t. At all. That’s what I realized at that moment. Yet, I still felt like the wronged party.
Throughout all this, Izzy had said nothing. She stood there and watched it play out like it was none of her business. I don’t know why I hated that so much. It was to her that I yelled, “IT WASN’T MY FAULT! I DIDN’T KNOW!” before walking out in shame.
A sad man looking at something to the side | Source: Midjourney
***
In the days that followed, I calmed down and tried reaching out to my kids. Caleb responded occasionally but was always short with his answers. Maya didn’t respond at all. I didn’t dare call Izzy.
At first, I was defensive and told myself that no part of this was my doing. I had no clue. I’d just fallen in love. My relatives who were at the party eventually understood that, but the fact that my children couldn’t made me resentful.
After all, I’d cut Jenna off for good. She kept texting me, but I eventually blocked her. But no one was giving me the chance to explain it. Weeks later, I ran into my cousin and vented some of my feelings to her. By the end of that meeting, she gave me the business card of a therapist.
A woman holding a business card | Source: Midjourney
I called only a few days later. One thing he said actually put things into perspective.
“Whether you knew or not is irrelevant. You chose the divorce. You hurt your family on an impulse, as you’ve told me,” the doctor began. “What your ex-in-laws revealed was a bombshell, for sure. But at the end of the day, what matters now? Do you want to lose your kids for good?”
No, I didn’t want that. And after that simple realization, everything else he said in just one session made sense. I saw all the selfishness and stupidity I’d displayed. So, I took action.
A man in an office | Source: Midjourney
First, I called David, and I got the full detailed story of how Jenna almost ruined Izzy’s future. They’d needed lawyers and cops to finally get her to stop and disappear from their lives. During our talk, he called me many names and insults and told me Jenna had played me.
I knew and was glad that, at least, my love for her was gone. She wasn’t going to play me ever again. I asked for David’s forgiveness and he gave it grudgingly.
Afterward, I called my ex-mother-in-law and begged her to see my perspective. She forgave me only after giving me a two-hour lecture. She also told me I would never find someone as great as her daughter. That was true.
An older woman looking angry while on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I would never have Izzy as my wife again, but she was the mother of my children and the person I called next. This was the most painful conversation. Aside from forgiveness, I had to beg her for help with the kids.
I couldn’t let my relationship with them be completely destroyed. Fortunately, Izzy was gracious enough to agree after telling me that I really had no way of knowing who Jenna was. I breathed a sigh at last.
It took several weeks, but eventually, she called me, saying Caleb and Maya were open to having a deep conversation with me. We had to start slow, though. It had to be on their terms.
A man looking thoughtful | Source: Midjourney
This is my ONE chance to make things TRULY right and get my children back. I’m seeing them tomorrow. Wish me luck.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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