I shook my head. “If they want to talk to you, they’ll call,” I said firmly. “But you’re not walking back into our lives.”
Stan scribbled his number on a piece of paper, thanking me before slumping back into his chair. As I walked away, I felt an overwhelming sense of closure. I didn’t need his regret to validate my strength. My kids and I had built a life full of resilience and love, and no one could take that away.
For the first time in years, I smiled—not because of Stan’s downfall, but because of how far we had come.
