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Her heart sank. She reminded him, gently at first, then more firmly, that creating children was not something she had done alone.
He didn’t answer.
The next morning, reality hit harder than any argument.
“I woke up with screaming and crying kids begging their father not to go,” she wrote.
He had packed overnight. Suitcase by the door. Shoes on. Keys in hand.
“My 3-year-old is hugging his father’s luggage and crying,” she said. “And his face is stoic.”
