Without another word, Derek grabbed his keys and drove us home. Lorraine's smug expression faded when we arrived.

 

"Derek, darling—"

"STOP!" he snapped. "You lied to me, locked my wife and children out of our home, and wrote a fake note to drive them away. What's wrong with you?"

She sputtered excuses, but he wasn't having it.

"You manipulated me, Mom. I trusted you!" His voice cracked with anger and disbelief. "How could you do this to Jenna? To my daughters?"

Lorraine's face twisted with desperation. "I was only thinking of you! A man needs a son, Derek. A strong legacy! Not two little—"

"Enough!" His voice was thunderous now. "You don't get to decide what my family should be. My daughters are perfect, and you..." He took a shaky breath. "You're not welcome in our lives anymore."

Tears welled up in Lorraine's eyes, but Derek’s decision was firm. "Pack your bags, Mom. You're leaving today."

She gasped. "You wouldn't do that to your own mother!"

But he already had his phone in hand. "If you don’t, I’ll call the police for trespassing."

Lorraine's eyes darted between us, but she saw the resolve in Derek's face. With a bitter glare, she stomped upstairs.

Jenna exhaled, clutching the twins tightly. "Is this real?"

Derek turned to her, his expression softening. "I'm so sorry, Jenna. I should have seen what she was doing sooner. But I'm here now. I'm with you."

Tears streamed down Jenna’s face as she nodded. "We’re together. That’s all that matters."

And as Lorraine’s presence faded from their home, Derek wrapped his arms around his wife and daughters, vowing never to let anything—or anyone—tear them apart again.

That night, as I rocked my daughters to sleep, I realized we didn't need Jack. Our family was whole—just me and my girls.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. I poured my love and energy into raising Sophie, Lily, and Grace. Every milestone they reached—their first giggles, their first attempts at crawling, their sleepy murmurs as they clung to me at night—was a reminder that I had made the right choice.

I found strength in the support of my friends and family. My parents, who had always been a quiet presence in my life, stepped up in ways I never imagined. My mother moved in temporarily to help with the sleepless nights, and my father took every chance to dote on his granddaughters. "You don't need a man like Jack to complete this family," my mom would say, squeezing my hand. "You're enough."

Meanwhile, Jack's mother continued trying to make amends. She sent letters, called from different numbers when I blocked hers, and even tried to visit unannounced. But I held firm. She had played a part in breaking my family, and I couldn't allow her toxicity near my daughters.

Jack, however, seemed to struggle more than I expected. Through mutual acquaintances, I heard about his downward spiral. He lost his job, started drinking, and distanced himself from everyone who had once supported him. And yet, despite everything, he never once reached out to check on the daughters he had abandoned.

One day, when the girls were nearly a year old, I received a letter in the mail. It was from Jack.

"Emily,

I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I've spent the past year regretting every decision I made. Leaving you and the girls was the biggest mistake of my life. I let my mother manipulate me, and I let my fear control me. If I could go back in time, I would choose you and our daughters every single time.

I know I can't erase what I've done, but if there's any part of you that can give me a second chance—not as your husband, but as a father to our girls—I would spend the rest of my life making it up to them.

Please, Emily. Let me meet them. Let me be their father."

Tears welled in my eyes as I read the letter, but not because I missed him. I cried for my daughters—for the father they would never truly have. Because as much as Jack might have regretted his actions, his cowardice had cost him something he could never get back: the chance to be a father from the start.

I folded the letter and placed it in a box with the others I had received from his mother. Then, I picked up my daughters and kissed each of them on the forehead.

"You will never have to beg for love," I whispered to them. "Because you already have all of mine."

Jack might have abandoned us, but in doing so, he had given me the greatest gift of all—the freedom to build a life filled with love, on my own terms. And as I watched my daughters sleep peacefully in my arms, I knew with certainty that we would be just fine.