Three years ago, my marriage ended, but my ex-husband Mark and I stayed committed to raising our daughter Ember together. He never missed a weekend visit, cheered at her soccer games, and brought her thoughtful gifts that lit up her face. Our split didn’t destroy our family — it just reshaped it.
Then, a year ago, Stan walked into our lives. I met him in the grocery store after Ember accidentally knocked over a display of soup cans. He helped me stack them back up, cracking jokes until she was laughing instead of crying. His easy charm and kindness felt genuine, and soon he was coming over, building Lego castles on the floor and joining tea parties with stuffed animals. Unlike other men I’d dated, he didn’t treat Ember as an afterthought — he seemed to truly enjoy her company.
