When Derek’s cousin Daisy and her son Patrick moved in, I thought I was just helping family. But soon, I noticed odd glances, whispered conversations, and a tension I couldn’t explain. Then, during lunch with Derek’s sister, the truth exploded: Daisy wasn’t his cousin—she was his ex. And Patrick? He was Derek’s son.

I was blindsided. Derek had lied. For weeks, I welcomed them into my home, set up rooms, played hostess—completely unaware I was housing his secret family.

When I confronted him, he admitted everything. He said he was scared I’d leave if I knew. But the betrayal cut deep. Daisy and Patrick moved out, and Derek begged for forgiveness, throwing himself into therapy and trying to rebuild what he broke.

Now, I’m trying to figure out if trust can be rebuilt. I haven’t forgiven him, but I’m open to trying—on my terms. One day at a time.

Because trust? It’s fragile. And Derek? He’s walking on thin ice.