“My family comes as a package,” he told me, his voice steady.
“If you decided my oldest daughter isn’t your family, then you don’t deserve the others either.”
I couldn’t breathe. He went on. Calm.
Final.
“You don’t get to love them selectively. You don’t get to punish a child for a mistake she didn’t make.”
I left their house in tears, my dessert untouched on the table.
Now I sit alone in the same quiet house I once filled with laughter, wondering how everything unraveled so quickly. I feel betrayed by my son.
He let me live a lie for fourteen years.
And now he’s cutting me off from the two grandchildren who are my blood. But in the silence, a question keeps haunting me:
Did I lose my family the moment I decided blood mattered more than love? And if so… is it too late to fix what I broke?
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events.
Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental.
The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
