Her expression hardened. “You’re making this difficult.”
“No, you are,” I replied. “I have a right to see her.”
That was the beginning of the end.
Weeks turned to months. I missed her second birthday, her first steps, her first words. I was losing her.
One night, I reached my breaking point. I drove to their house and stood outside, staring at the glow of the windows—the life I was locked out of. I knocked.
Her new husband answered, tense, eyes darting.
“You have to leave,” he said.
“Where’s my daughter?”
“There is no daughter,” he whispered.
My blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
I held back my rage. I could see the trap, the headlines, the perfect victim act.
Then she appeared behind him, arms crossed, cruel smile on her face.
“You’ll never see her again,” she said.
My world shook. But I didn’t lash out. I breathed, thought, and then did the hardest thing—I smiled.Continue reading…