They never gave William a chance. Their father made sure of that. He filled their heads with lies about why our marriage ended, who William was, and what kind of “selfish” mother I had become.
The girls were polite when they visited, but cold and distant. They tolerated William because they had to, not because they wanted to.
But last year, he remarried his colleague. His new wife did not like my daughters one bit. The fighting started almost immediately, and he stopped paying their rent within months.
That is when they called me.
“Mom, we need help,” Kyra had said over the phone, her voice small in a way I had not heard since she was little.
“Dad cut us off. We cannot afford the apartment anymore, and we do not have jobs yet. Can we stay with you?
Just until we get on our feet?”
What was I supposed to say? They were my daughters. So I said yes, despite my own heartbreak concerning William’s declining health.
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