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“Arthur… who?”
“You know who,” she said.
“My Arthur?”
She nodded and blushed, with a smile so wide it looked pasted on. “It just happened. He reached out, and we talked.
He always understood me — and now that you’re not together…”
Her words blurred after that. I could hear them, but I wasn’t absorbing anything. I couldn’t believe that she was dating my ex-husband — now a 40-year-old man!
He was 16 years her senior, and she had no business being with him!
I tried to find my voice, but she cut through my silence with the kind of threat only a child can wield against their parent. Her ultimatum was cold, direct, and delivered with that particular confidence young women have when convinced they’re fighting for love rather than repeating a family pattern.
“You either accept this, or I cut you out of my life.”
I should have screamed or begged, but I didn’t. I couldn’t lose her, not after everything.
I told her I supported it.
A year later, I stood in a wedding venue decorated with eucalyptus garlands and soft jazz, watching my daughter walk down the aisle toward the man I had once promised forever.
I smiled, posed for photos, and toasted with champagne — because that’s what mothers do.
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