I had just finished grocery shopping when I saw them. Stan and Miranda were sitting at a shabby outdoor café, and they looked… defeated. Stan was a shadow of his former self, his tailored suits replaced by a wrinkled shirt. Miranda’s once-polished appearance was now a façade; her faded dress and worn handbag betrayed their struggles.
Stan spotted me and called out, his voice tinged with desperation. Against my better judgment, I approached them. Miranda avoided eye contact, her demeanor icy. Stan began rambling apologies, asking to see the kids and make amends. But it was too little, too late.
As he tried to explain himself, Miranda interrupted, blaming him for their financial troubles. Their argument escalated, revealing years of resentment. Finally, Miranda stood up, adjusted her dress, and walked away, leaving Stan alone. He turned to me, pleading for a second chance with the kids.
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