As Linda was leaving, she said something I will never forget.
“I deserve a better life, David. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life washing children’s clothes and counting how much money we have left until the end of the month.”
Richard stood beside her, holding the keys to his expensive car.
I begged Linda to at least say goodbye to the children.
She replied that it would be easier for everyone this way.
That evening, our oldest son, Jake, was only twelve. He held little Amy in his arms, trying to comfort her while the other children kept asking when Mommy was coming home.
I had no answer.
The years that followed were far from easy.
I worked two jobs, sometimes three. Every morning, I made breakfast for the children. In the evenings, I helped them with their homework. And at night, I sat in the kitchen wondering how I was going to pay the mortgage.
