A New Beginning
It was supposed to be a joyful homecoming. After spending several days in the hospital, I had just been discharged with my newborn twin girls, Ella and Sophie. My husband, Derek, had planned to pick us up, but at the last minute, he called.
“Mom’s not feeling well. I need to take her to the hospital. I won’t be able to pick you up,” he said, his voice hurried.
Disappointed but understanding, I called a taxi. The ride home felt longer than usual, filled with the quiet hum of the car’s engine and the soft coos of my babies in the backseat. I told myself it was just a minor inconvenience, that everything would be fine once we got home.
But when I arrived, my heart sank.
My bags and suitcases sat on the doorstep, placed there as if they no longer belonged inside. My hands trembled as I approached the door, calling out, “Derek?” But there was no response. I reached for my key—only to realize it didn’t work. The locks had been changed.
Then I saw it—a note taped to one of the bags.
With shaky fingers, I unfolded it, recognizing the familiar handwriting immediately.
“I’m sorry, but I need to move on. You can stay with your sister. The girls deserve better.”
The words felt like a wave crashing over me. My mind spun as I read them again, hoping I had misunderstood. But no—the message was clear. Derek had left, and he had decided I was no longer welcome in our home.
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