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“Dad says his wife really wants to be a mom,” she added quietly. “He said she’s been waiting for a kid for years and she loves me already.”
That one hurt.
Complete.
I went to bed that night and stared at the ceiling for hours, replaying every time I’d said, “We can’t afford that.” Every “maybe later.” Every empty fridge day before payday.
A few weeks later, my ex texted me.
Since Andrea’s spending more time here anyway, it might make sense to switch primary custody. Less back and forth.
More stability.
My hands shook.
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