Fourteen years of marriage. Two children. A life I believed was absolutely perfect. It’s astonishing how fast everything can fall apart.
It all unraveled one evening when Stan returned home — and he wasn’t alone. He arrived with a tall, glamorous woman whose smile looked like it could slice through steel. I was at the stove, stirring soup, when I heard the click of her high heels.
“Well, darling,” she said, scanning me head to toe. “You didn’t exaggerate. She really has let herself go. Such a waste — she’s got decent bone structure, though.”
My entire body tensed. “Excuse me?”
Stan sighed, as though I was the one causing trouble. “Lauren, I want a divorce.”
The room tilted. “A divorce? What about our children? Our life?”
He shrugged. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll send some money. Oh, and you can sleep on the couch or go to your sister’s. Miranda’s staying here tonight.”
That was the moment I left. I packed up, took our kids, and walked out. The divorce happened soon after. We sold the house, downsized, and tried to piece our lives back together. Meanwhile, Stan vanished — not just from my life, but from the kids’ too. At first, he sent money for their essentials, but eventually he stopped altogether. More than two years passed without him bothering to see the children. He didn’t just leave me; he abandoned them as well.
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