“He talked about you and the kids as if it were already decided,” she said without hesitation.
I frowned.
“He’d say it like it was only a matter of time—that you’d get overwhelmed and things would… shift. That the kids would end up with him full-time, and you’d just… disappear.”
I stared at her.
“He actually said that?”
She nodded. “More than once.”
“You’re sure?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. It’s one of the reasons I quit.”
I sat in my car for a long time afterward.
Not crying. Not angry.
Just clear—for the first time in years.
I had thought I was reacting to something sudden.
But it had been building all along.
And I had missed it.
That afternoon, I picked up the kids myself.
I spoke to Jonathan’s teacher, asked the questions I should have asked long ago.
I checked Lila’s schedule and confirmed things directly.
It felt strange at first—like stepping back into a role I had slowly been pushed out of.
But with every conversation, something settled.
I wasn’t guessing anymore.
I was showing up.
Over the following weeks, I kept going.
I organized every document, made calls, followed up on everything Sean used to handle.
Each step was small, but together they mattered.
Peter noticed, but said little.
