My daughter started crying, and for a split second, I almost softened. Almost. But then I remembered that text.
The next morning, she must have tried to use her card, because I got another call—this time from the coffee shop near her gym. “Dad,” my daughter said between sniffles, “Mom’s card didn’t work. They said it’s declined.”
“Guess the bank’s still figuring things out. Maybe David can grab the check?”
She didn’t reply. That was the beginning of a very long, very quiet unraveling.
My wife and I barely spoke after that. She moved out a week later, into a small rental on the other side of town. I gave her some furniture, mostly to avoid arguments.
She tried to play it cool, like she didn’t care, but I could tell she wasn’t expecting me to move on so easily. Then came the part that really caught her off guard. I filed for separation.Continue reading…
