And I was fascinated.
I wanted that life.
I wanted beautiful clothes, a big house, nice cars, and the kind of comfort I’d never had with Dad.
Then my mother offered to take me home with her.
I didn’t hesitate.
I packed my belongings and left.
Dad stood in the doorway of the same little house he had practically destroyed himself trying to keep.
I expected him to stop me.
He didn’t.
He didn’t beg.
He didn’t cry.
He simply hugged me and said,
“If this is what you want, go.”
I walked away without looking back.
After that, Dad never called.
At first, I told myself he was angry.
Then I convinced myself he was too proud to reach out.
So I didn’t call either.
For ten weeks, I lived with my mother and her wealthy husband.
The house was beautiful.
