Two years ago, my wife, Anna, walked out on me and our kids at the lowest point in our lives.
When I finally picked up the pieces and rebuilt my family, I saw her again—alone in a café, tears streaming down her face.
What she said next left me stunned.
The day Anna left, she packed a single suitcase, stood by the door, and coldly said, “I can’t do this anymore.” Max and Lily, our four-year-old twins, clung to me, confused and scared.
I was too stunned to speak, watching the woman I loved walk out without so much as a glance back. It was like a switch flipped—one moment, we were a family, and the next, I was a single dad with two kids and a mountain of bills.
