“Lauren,” he called. “Please—wait.”
I approached calmly.
“I’m sorry,” he said desperately. “I want to see the kids. I want to fix things.”
“Fix what?” I asked. “You disappeared for two years.”
They began arguing, blaming each other. And for the first time, I didn’t see the couple who destroyed my marriage—I saw two people who had destroyed themselves.
Miranda stood up first.
“I stayed because of the child we had,” she said coldly. “But I’m done.”
She walked away. Stan didn’t stop her.
He turned back to me, pleading.
I searched his face and found no trace of the man I once loved.
“Give me your number,” I said. “If the kids want to talk to you, they’ll call. But you’re not coming back into our lives.”
He nodded and wrote it down.
I walked away without looking back.
It wasn’t revenge. It was clarity.
I didn’t need his regret to move forward.
My children and I had built a life grounded in strength and love—and no one could take that from us.
And for the first time in years, I smiled.
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