For months, my husband and son claimed they were going to football practice—until I discovered the field was empty and followed them to another woman who was quietly becoming part of their lives. The truth shattered my marriage, and my son chose to leave with his father, leaving me alone to rebuild from betrayal.
A year later, healed and starting over, I heard a knock at my door. It was my son, crying and asking to come home. I held him close, knowing that sometimes love means letting go—and being ready when they find their way back.
