My wife walked out on me and our children two years ago—right when things were at their worst.
When Anna stormed out of our apartment with nothing but a suitcase and a cold, “I can’t do this anymore,” I was left standing there with our four-year-old twins, Max and Lily.
One moment, we were a family. The next, I was alone with two kids and a mountain of bills.
I had been a software programmer at a promising tech company, but things took a shady turn, and the business collapsed before we even saw it coming. Overnight, I went from earning a six-figure salary to collecting unemployment checks.
I’ll never forget the look in Anna’s eyes when I told her. She was a marketing executive, polished and ambitious. But I never thought she would leave when things got tough.
To keep us afloat, I drove for ride-sharing services at night and delivered groceries during the day—all while juggling childcare. Max and Lily were confused, constantly asking about their mother.
Thankfully, my parents lived nearby. They helped with the twins whenever they could, but financially, I was on my own.
Despite everything, Max and Lily were my anchor. Their little arms wrapped around me at the end of the day, their small voices whispering, “We love you, Daddy,” kept me going. I refused to let them down.
The second year without Anna was different. I landed a freelance coding gig, and my client was so impressed with my work that he offered me a full-time remote job at his cybersecurity firm.
It wasn’t a six-figure salary, but it was stable. We moved into a smaller but cozier apartment, and I finally started taking care of myself again—going to the gym, cooking healthy meals, and setting a routine for the kids.
Then, exactly two years later, I saw Anna again.
While Max and Lily were at preschool, I was catching up on work at a café near our new home when I spotted her.
She was sitting alone at a corner table, head down, tears streaming down her face.
She looked different—worn out. Her coat was faded, her hair dull, and the dark circles under her eyes told me she hadn’t been sleeping well.
I knew I shouldn’t care. I should just finish my drink and leave. But she was still the mother of my kids.
Our eyes met. Her expression shifted from shock to humiliation.
Leaving my cup and laptop on the table, I walked over to the woman who had broken our family apart.
“You left us,” I said. “You walked away without a second thought. And now, two years later, I find you crying in a café? What’s going on?”
She shook her head, her voice trembling. “I can’t explain it, but leaving was a mistake. I lost my job almost immediately after. I lived off my savings for a while, and my parents sent me money, but they cut me off after a few months. The people I thought were my friends disappeared the moment I needed them.”
She swallowed hard. “I miss you,” she whispered. “I want to come back.”
Anna reached across the table, her hand hovering near mine. “David, please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll do anything to make things right. I’ve been bouncing between cheap apartments, taking temp jobs just to get by. I’ve had time to think. And I realize now what I lost.”
I pulled my hand away. “Did you ever think about Max and Lily?” I asked, my voice cold. “Not once in two years? You haven’t even mentioned them since I sat down.”
As I let that sink in, my disgust only grew.