“Stop,” I said. “I’m way too tired for jokes.”
“I’m not joking.”
My stomach dropped so fast I had to grip the edge of the couch.
He promised he’d be a good father, pay child support, and show up for them.
“I’ll still take care of them,” he said. “I’m not walking away from my kids.”
“I just don’t love you anymore,” he added.
The way he said it was almost gentle, as if he thought that made the blow a little kinder.
“You don’t love me,” I repeated. “Or do you just not love the responsibility?”
He didn’t give me an answer to that.
“Is there someone else?” I asked.
Silence.
That silence should’ve told me everything I needed to know.
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