The next morning, I packed a bag and headed to my late mother’s country house. I turned off my phone and took some much-needed time for myself, relaxing with coffee and watching my favorite show. Meanwhile, back home, Danny was in for a surprise. He had no idea what was coming when he realized I wasn’t there.
The first day was pure chaos. He struggled to prepare breakfast, spilled juice, and couldn’t get the kids ready for the day. The rest of the day didn’t go any smoother—he was overwhelmed trying to balance their schoolwork, his job, and the constant energy of our five daughters.
By the second day, Danny was sending me desperate messages, even recording a video, pleading for me to come home. It was both amusing and gratifying to see him realize just how much I managed daily.
When I finally returned home, Danny greeted me at the door, clearly relieved. “I’m so sorry,” he said, hugging me tightly. “I won’t push you about having a son anymore. I realize now how much you handle, and I promise to be more involved with the family.”
His words softened my heart. “If you really mean that and start helping more with the kids, maybe we can talk about the idea of another child in the future,” I said, smiling.
From that day forward, Danny kept his promise. He became more involved with our daughters, from helping with homework to learning how to braid hair. Our family grew closer, and Danny finally understood the importance of appreciating what we already had.
Months later, as we watched our girls play in the yard, Danny squeezed my hand and said, ‘Thank you, Lisa. For everything.’
I smiled, knowing that we had come through stronger and more united than ever.