It was Grayson’s sister, Ana.
“I thought you should know,” she said, eyes red, “Grayson’s in trouble. He’s behind on the mortgage. And… the kids keep asking about you.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to go back. But I did want to see them.
She gave me her number. Said I could visit them at her place. She’d taken them in while Grayson “figured stuff out.”
The first time I saw them again, Teddy ran to me like no time had passed. Liv held onto my leg and wouldn’t let go.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
I knelt down, hugged them tight, and felt something in my chest heal.
That day, I promised myself something: I would never again let someone decide my worth. Not in love. Not in family. Not even in grief.
I didn’t have to stay to be a good person. I didn’t have to break myself to keep others whole.
Over time, I became part of the kids’ lives again. Slowly. Not as a replacement mom. Not even as “stepmom.” Just Mara. Someone who loved them, still.
Grayson eventually lost the house. I heard he moved to a smaller town and started over. We don’t speak.
But sometimes, I still think about that shoebox. About the quiet way my dad tried to protect me, even after death.
I’m glad I found it. I’m glad I listened.
Some people come into your life with their hands open. Others come with a script they want you to follow.
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