He lowered his eyes, fear carved into his face. “My mom… she trusts this psychic completely. She’s made predictions before, and this time… she’s absolutely convinced.”
I felt something snap inside me. Anger rushed through my veins, hot and sharp. “So because of some ridiculous prophecy, you’re ready to abandon us? Just leave your own children behind?”
Jack froze. His face was a storm of dread and guilt. “If you want to keep them,” he whispered, “do it. But don’t expect me to be part of that life.”
I stared at him, heart pounding, unable to make sense of what I was hearing. “You’re really choosing superstition over your own children?”
He didn’t respond. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
“Leave now,” I said, my voice shaking. “Walk out that door, and don’t look back. I won’t let you ruin our daughters’ lives.”
His eyes met mine, full of sorrow, before he turned and left. The door closed behind him with a dull finality, and I sat in stunned silence, trying to breathe.
A nurse entered quietly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder as I gathered the last of our things. I looked down at my daughters, tears stinging my eyes. “It’s okay, my loves,” I whispered. “I’m here. And I always will be.”
Holding them close, fear mixed with determination inside me. I didn’t know how I’d get through this—but I knew I wouldn’t abandon them, not ever.
Weeks passed. Each day without Jack was harder than the last. Taking care of three newborns on my own pushed me to the brink more than once. But I kept going—for Sophie, Lily, and Grace. They were everything now.
Beth, Jack’s sister, was the only one from his family who stayed in touch. One afternoon, she dropped by with groceries and offered to help. I noticed something different in her that day—like she had something heavy weighing on her.
“Em,” she said quietly, her voice breaking, “there’s something you need to know. I’ve been sick keeping it in.”
My heart stopped. “Say it.”
She took a breath. “Last night, Mom told Aunt Carol… there was never a psychic. She made it up.”
I felt the world tilt beneath me. “What do you mean?”
Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “She was afraid Jack would stop needing her if he had a family. So she made him believe your daughters were cursed. She thought if he feared them, he’d stay close to her.”
I nearly dropped Grace from how hard my hands shook. “That woman destroyed my family to protect her control.”
Beth laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Emily. I don’t think she ever imagined Jack would actually walk away.”
That night, I didn’t sleep. I kept thinking about whether to confront Jack’s mother or tell Jack the truth. By morning, I picked up the phone and called him.
When he answered, his voice was guarded. “Emily, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“You need to hear this,” I said. “There never was a fortune teller. Your mother lied. Beth heard her admit it.”
There was a long silence. “That can’t be true,” he said at last. “My mother doesn’t lie.”
“She did this time. Because she couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “You’re saying she made up a curse about my children? No. She wouldn’t.”
“Then why would I?” I asked. “Why would I make this up? These are your daughters, Jack. And you left them over a lie.”
He paused again. “I’m sorry, Emily. I can’t do this.”
And then he hung up.
I stared at the phone, my heart numb. He had made his choice.
The days that followed were long and exhausting. But slowly, help began to arrive. Friends brought meals. Neighbors offered a hand. And through the endless diapers and sleepless nights, my bond with the girls only grew stronger. Every smile, every tiny hand wrapped around my finger, reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
Then, one day, there was a knock at the door. It was Jack’s mother. Her face was pale, her eyes full of remorse.
“I never meant for this to happen,” she said.
“You lied,” I replied coldly. “You made your son believe his children were cursed.”
“I was scared,” she whispered. “I thought if he had you and the babies, he wouldn’t need me anymore.”
“You didn’t just lose him,” I said. “You broke something that may never be fixed.”
She lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”
I said nothing more. I closed the door.
A year later, Jack came back. He looked different—older, tired, filled with regret.
“I was wrong,” he said. “I see that now. I want to come back, to be a family again.”
I looked him in the eye, steady and calm. “You already had a family, Jack. And you walked away. We don’t need you anymore.”
I closed the door behind him and let the silence settle. For the first time in a long while, it felt like peace.