My days forcus on carpools, homework help, and family dinners. I lived for Lily, my spirited 12-year-old, and Max, my curious 9-year-old.
Over the years, we suffered many ups and downs, but one thing that stayed firm was our bond.
Lately, he’d been working late. But that’s normal, right?
It happened on a Tuesday. I remember because I was making soup for dinner, the kind Lily loved with the tiny alphabet noodles.
I heard the front door open, followed by the unfamiliar sound of heels clicking on the floor.
“Stan?” I called out, wiping my hands on a dish towel. My stomach tightened as I walked into the living room, and there they were.
Stan and his mistress.
She was tall and beautiful with sleek hair and the kind of sharp smile that made you feel like prey.
Moreover, my husband looked at her with a warmth I hadn’t seen in months.
“Well, darling,” she said.
“You weren’t exaggerating. She really let herself go. Such a shame. She’s got decent bone structure.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Her words sliced through me.
“Excuse me?”
“Lauren, we need to talk,” he said, crossing his arms. “This is Miranda. And… I want a divorce.”
“A divorce?” I repeated, unable to process what he was saying. “What about our kids? What about us?”
“You’ll manage,” he said in a clipped tone as if discussing the weather.
“I’ll send child support. But Miranda and I are serious. I brought her here so you’d know I’m not changing my mind.”
“Oh, and by the way, you can sleep on the couch tonight or go to your mom’s place, because Miranda is staying over.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I felt so angry and so hurt, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
When I walked into Lily’s room, she looked up from her book. She immediately knew something was not right.
“Mom, what’s going on?” she asked.
I crouched down beside her, stroking her hair.
“We’re going to Grandma’s for a little while, sweetheart. Pack a few things, okay?”
“But why? Where’s Dad?” Max chimed in from the doorway.
“Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But we’ll be okay. I promise.”
The life I had known was gone, but for my kids, I had to keep moving forward.
That night, as I drove to my mother’s house with Lily and Max fast asleep in the backseat, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. My mind was full of questions I didn’t have answers to.
How could Stan do this? What would I tell the kids? How would we rebuild our lives from the ashes of this betrayal?
When we arrived, my mom opened the door.
“Lauren, what happened?” she asked, pulling me into a hug.
In the days that followed, everything became a blur of legal paperwork, school drop-offs, and explaining the unexplainable to my children.
The divorce was conducted, leaving me with a settlement that barely felt like justice.
I got us a modest two-bedroom home. A home where I wouldn’t have to worry about getting betrayed.
At first, Stan sent child support finances, but that didn’t last.
By the six-month mark, the payments stopped altogether, and so did the phone calls. I told myself he was busy, or maybe he needed time to adjust.
But after 6 months, Stan wasn’t just gone from my life. He’d walked out on the kids too.
It was heartbreaking, but I had no choice but to step up for Lily and Max. They deserved stability, even if their father couldn’t provide it.
Slowly, I began to rebuild—not just for them, but for myself.
Three years later, life had settled into a rhythm I cherished.
Lily was in high school now and Max had taken his love for robotics to the next level. Our little home was filled with laughter and warmth, and it showed how far we’d come.
It was a rainy afternoon when everything came full circle.
I had just finished grocery shopping and was hanging bags when I noticed them. Stan and Miranda were seated at a shabby outdoor café across the street.
Stan looked haggard. His once-tailored suits were replaced by a wrinkled shirt and a tie that hung awkwardly loose around his neck.
Miranda, still dressed in designer clothes. Her dress was faded, her once-luxurious handbag scuffed, and her heels worn down to the point of fraying.
As if sensing my presence, Stan’s eyes darted up and locked with mine.
“Lauren!” he called
“Wait!”
“Lauren, I’m so sorry for everything,” Stan blurted, his voice cracking. “Please, can we talk? I need to see the kids. I need to make things right.”
“Make things right?” I asked. “You haven’t seen your kids in over two years, Stan. You stopped paying child support. What exactly do you think you can fix now?”
“I know, I know,” he began. “I messed up. Miranda and I…” He glanced at her nervously. “We made some bad decisions.”
“Oh, don’t blame this on me,” Miranda snapped, finally breaking her silence. “You’re the one who lost all that money on a ‘surefire’ investment.”
With that, she walked away. He watched her go and didn’t once stop her. Then, he turned back to me.
“Lauren, please. Let me come by. Let me talk to the kids. I miss them so much. I miss us.”
“Give me your number, Stan,” I said. “If the kids want to talk to you, they’ll call. But you’re not walking back into my house.”
He flinched at the finality in my tone but nodded, scribbling his number on a scrap of paper.
“Thank you, Lauren,” he said. “I-I’d be grateful if they call me.”
I tucked it into my pocket without looking at it and turned away.
As I walked back to my car, I felt a strange sense of closure.. But it was the realization that I didn’t need Stan to regret his choices for me to move on.
