I packed my things, ready to finally move in with the man I love.
After five years of heartache, after my ex-husband left me for his young mistress, I never thought I’d find happiness again.
But Eric was like a breath of fresh air!
I was finally about to start my new life… until a knock on the door changed everything.
I opened it, and there he was—my ex, standing there like a ghost from the past.
But he wasn’t just there to say hi…
He had the strangest request in the world. He asked for my help raising his child.
At first, I laughed. Like, out loud. I actually thought he was joking.
“Arlen,” I said, blinking. “You mean your child? With Marissa?”
He nodded. But he looked… broken. Like someone who hadn’t slept properly in weeks.
“She left,” he said quietly. “She left me and the baby. Just packed a bag and went off to Bali with some guy. Said she wasn’t meant to be a mother.”
My heart did something weird then. Not pity exactly. But something close. Arlen had destroyed me. I spent nights curled up on the floor crying over what he and Marissa did. And now here he was, holding a diaper bag like it weighed a thousand pounds.
I should’ve closed the door.
But instead, I said, “Where’s the baby?”
He stepped aside, and there she was. A tiny girl with Arlen’s eyes and the same dark hair I used to brush every morning when we were married. She looked at me, wide-eyed, clutching a worn-out bunny toy.
“She’s just two,” Arlen whispered. “Her name’s Elsie. I don’t know what I’m doing, and… I don’t have anyone else.”
I told him to wait outside. I needed air. I sat on the porch steps, my whole body buzzing with disbelief.
I thought about Eric. He was expecting me in a few hours. He had cleared out half his closet, installed new locks, bought matching toothbrushes. And here I was, considering postponing that for this?
But there was something about that little girl…
I went back in, told Arlen I’d help him for a week. Just until he got his bearings. I’d sleep on the couch. It didn’t mean anything. I even called Eric and explained it, downplaying the whole thing.
He didn’t say much on the phone. Just said, “Do what you need to do. I trust you.”
So I stayed.
One week turned into two.
Elsie had night terrors. She clung to me like I was her anchor. Arlen tried, really tried, but I could see the cracks. He’d cry when he thought I wasn’t looking. He’d burn dinner and pretend it was intentional. He wasn’t a bad person. Just… lost.
And somewhere in all that, I started to feel something strange—peace. Not romantic. Not the old love we used to have. But a sense of closure I didn’t know I needed.
One night, I found a drawing Elsie made. It was a stick figure family—her, me, and Arlen. She’d labeled me “Mama.”
That hit me hard.
I didn’t want that. I couldn’t be that. But I also couldn’t just disappear from her life.
I sat Arlen down the next morning. I was nervous. “You need a nanny,” I told him. “Or better yet, family. Someone consistent.”
He nodded, slowly. “I was hoping it could be you.”
“I have someone, Arlen,” I said gently. “Eric’s good to me. I can’t throw that away.”
He nodded again. Then said something I’ll never forget.
“I think part of me wanted you to fix this because I ruined you. And maybe if you saved me, it would undo everything. But that’s not fair.”
It wasn’t. But it was honest.
So I helped him interview three nannies. I stayed a few more days to help him adjust. Then I packed my things—again.
This time, there were no tears. Just a quiet goodbye to Elsie, who kissed my cheek and handed me her bunny. “For when you miss me.”
I moved in with Eric that weekend.
We still have the bunny on our dresser.
Sometimes life circles back in messy, confusing ways. And sometimes healing looks like showing up one last time for someone who hurt you—not to rekindle anything, but to walk away with peace.
You can forgive without forgetting. You can care without compromising. And you can choose yourself without guilt.
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