Two Years Later, She Was the One Crying
When Anna walked out the door two years ago, she didn’t just leave me—she left us. Our four-year-old twins clung to my legs, their innocent eyes filled with confusion. “Where’s Mommy going?” they had asked. I had no answer.
I had just lost my job, and apparently, that was enough for her to give up. “I can’t do this anymore,” was all she said before disappearing with a single suitcase. No hugs, no goodbyes. Just silence.
That first year? It was hell.
Unemployment checks barely covered rent. I worked night shifts at a warehouse and took odd IT gigs whenever I could. Some nights, I went without food just to make sure my kids had enough. But through it all, their little hands in mine, their sleepy voices whispering “We love you, Daddy,” kept me going.
By the second year, things got better.
I landed a solid IT job. We moved into a cozy apartment. I started working out again, regained my confidence, and for the first time in a long time, I felt… whole. We weren’t just surviving—we were thriving.
Then, two years to the day since she left, I saw her.
I was in a café, catching up on work, when I noticed a woman sitting in the corner, hunched over her phone. At first, I didn’t recognize her. But then, she turned slightly, and I froze.
Anna.
Tears streamed down her face. Her once carefully styled hair was messy, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked… lost.
She must have felt me staring because she suddenly looked up. Recognition flickered in her eyes—first shock, then something else.
Shame.
I stood, walked over, and without thinking, I asked, “Anna, what happened?”
Her lip trembled. She opened her mouth, then shut it, as if swallowing back a sob.
“I made a mistake,” she whispered.
I crossed my arms, waiting.
She wiped her face with shaky hands. “I thought leaving was the right choice. I thought I needed something… better.” Her voice cracked. “But the man I left you for—he used me, drained my money, and left me with nothing. I’ve been alone ever since.”
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I clenched my jaw. So, she had left us for another man.
She swallowed hard. “And you? The kids? How are you?”
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I exhaled, steadying myself. “We’re doing great.”
Her eyes widened in surprise—maybe she expected me to be broken, struggling. But I wasn’t.
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Anna reached out, her voice desperate. “Please… can I see them?”
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I stared at her, the woman who once walked away without looking back.
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And then? I gave her the same silence she once gave us.
I turned and walked away.