Raising three newborns alone was grueling, but I found strength in their smiles. They were my light in the darkest times.
One day, Jack’s sister, Beth, visited with a confession. “Emily, there was no fortune teller. Mom made it up to keep Jack close to her.”
Shock and fury consumed me. That lie had destroyed my family. When I confronted Jack, he refused to believe it, choosing his mother over us.
Months later, Jack’s mother appeared at my door, pale and tearful. She admitted her deceit, begging for forgiveness. “Your fear destroyed my family,” I said coldly. “You’ll have to live with that.”
A year after leaving, Jack returned, pleading for a second chance. But it was too late.
“You abandoned us when we needed you most,” I told him firmly. “We’ve built a life without you, and we’re stronger for it. You made your choice. Now live with it.”
As I closed the door, I felt at peace. My daughters and I were a family—whole, strong, and unbreakable. Jack had lost us, and that was his curse, not ours.