Rachel and I had been married for ten years. We had two daughters: Sophia, who was five, and Emily, who was four. I believed I was earning enough. We didn’t live in luxury, but we could afford family vacations twice a year. The girls had nannies, and Rachel did some work from home. I always tried to help with household chores. But for some reason, it seemed that none of it mattered to her anymore.
One day, Rachel calmly told me she was leaving. She walked out not just on me, but on our daughters as well.
— I’ve discovered myself, – she said. – I want more.
A few weeks later, I saw pictures of her online: an engagement to a very wealthy man, yachts, travels, designer dresses.
Did she leave us for that kind of dream?
I kept thinking about it, trying to find an explanation. But the hardest part was watching my little girls ask:
— Daddy, when is Mommy coming back?
I didn’t know what to tell them.
Two years went by…
Life went on. It was tough, but I managed. I worked, and every free moment I had, I spent with my daughters. They became my purpose, my guiding light.
One evening, I dropped by the supermarket for some milk and saw her.
She was standing by the checkout—tired-looking, wearing modest clothes, her gaze devoid of life. There was no trace of the Rachel I remembered posing on yachts.
Our eyes met.
She froze, clutching small change in her hands.
— You… – she began, but then fell silent.
I didn’t say a word.
— How are the girls doing? – she asked, her voice barely audible.
I felt my anger surge. Two years of silence. No calls, no letters.
— They’re doing fine. Because they have me.
She looked away.
— I’d like to see them…
I clenched my fists.
— You remembered them only after two years?
Rachel sighed, wiping away a tear.
— I made a mistake.
I let out a bitter laugh.
— A mistake is forgetting your umbrella in the rain. You chose a different life. You chose money, Rachel. Don’t tell me happiness isn’t just about yachts and fancy clothes?
She closed her eyes.
— He left me. As soon as I was no longer useful to him. Now I have nothing. No money, no home.
I glanced at her slender fingers—no ring.
— And my daughters? Did it really take you two whole years to recall they exist?
She began to sob.
— I know I can’t change anything. But please… Just let me see them.
I took a deep breath.
— They don’t remember you, Rachel. They stopped asking when you’d come back.
She broke down even more.
— I’m not asking for a second chance for myself… but they are my children…
I looked at her. The woman standing before me wasn’t the same Rachel who had left us for money. She seemed utterly crushed.
— I’ll think about it. But it’ll be on my terms.
She lifted her head, and I saw hope flicker in her eyes.
— Thank you…
I turned and walked away, leaving her there among strangers.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive her.
But I knew one thing: Sophia and Emily deserve the very best.
