She sounded close to crying.
“I told myself you must really want to do it. Because that was easier than asking you and risking the answer being no.”
I looked through the window.
A neighbor was unloading groceries.
It was an ordinary Sunday in an ordinary neighborhood, yet my life felt completely overturned.
“I do love your kids,” I said.
“I know.”
“But loving them doesn’t mean I agreed to raise them.”
Heather remained silent briefly.
“You’re right.”
I expected an objection to follow.
None came.
Instead, she continued.
“I have to figure out how to take care of my children. That’s my responsibility, not yours.”
For the first time, our conversation felt genuinely direct, without Seth influencing either of us.
After hanging up, I sent Heather the childcare resources.
Then I returned to my bedroom.
My wedding dress still hung on the closet door because I’d been too exhausted to put it away.
