It was a quiet night at the grocery store. I was finishing up my shift, counting the cash in the register, ready to go home to my son, Noah.Then the doors opened, and I froze.It was Daniel—my husband. The man who had disappeared ten years ago without a word.

He walked in like nothing had happened. Calm, casual.Hi, Anna,” he said, glancing at the open cash drawer. “How’s Noah?”My heart pounded. “You don’t get to ask that,” I told him. He just shrugged and walked out.

A few minutes later, I realized something was wrong. I recounted the cash drawer—over a thousand dollars was missing. I told my manager, but when we checked my locker, the money was there.I was fired on the spot.The next morning, things got worse. A woman from Child Protective Services showed up. Daniel had reported me. He wanted custody of Noah.

“You have one week to prove you can provide for your son,” she said.I was scared. I had no job, no savings. But I went to the bank, hoping for anything.That’s when the banker told me about a savings account in Noah’s name—opened years ago by Daniel’s mother. It had enough money to cover rent, food, and more.

When CPS returned with Daniel, I gave them the documents showing I could support Noah.Daniel was furious. “That money was supposed to be mine!”No,” I told him. “Your mother left it for Noah. You lost your rights when you walked away.”The CPS worker agreed. Daniel left, and later, he officially lost custody. He was ordered to pay child support.I found a new job, and things slowly got better.One night, after I tucked Noah into bed, he asked, “Are we okay now?”I smiled and held his hand.Yes, sweetheart. We’re okay. And we’re going to stay that way.”