For never meeting their grandson.
I didn’t say “it’s okay.”
Because it wasn’t.
But I said:
“Thank you for saying that.”
We got lawyers. Custody. Schedules. Money.
I didn’t want to be his enemy.
I just couldn’t be his wife.
Our son got the kid version of the truth.
“Dad made a big mistake a long time ago,” I told him. “He lied. Lying breaks trust. Adults mess up too.”
I still cry sometimes.
I still miss the life I thought I had.
But I’m building something new now.
A job. A small apartment. A weird, awkward truce with my parents that we’re slowly turning into something real.
I don’t regret loving him.
I regret that he didn’t trust me with the truth.
If anyone cares about the lesson, here’s mine:
Choosing love is brave. But choosing truth? That’s how you survive.
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