I thought I had already survived the worst. Five years earlier, my marriage had collapsed—not just breaking my heart, but dismantling the life I had built. Derek didn’t leave quietly. He left in pieces, taking stability and certainty with him. What remained was me and my son, Josh, starting over in a small apartment near Mercy General Hospital. Josh was sixteen, still growing, still carrying a quiet hope his father might return. I saw it in the way he checked his phone, in how he spoke less about him but felt him more. It broke me daily. But we endured.…
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