I remembered Sophie’s pride when I showed up to her school recital, her little face beaming because “Daddy was always there.”
I turned to Miranda, anger boiling in my chest. “Fix this? Do you think you can just waltz back in like nothing happened?”
“Please, Charlie, please.
Just give me one chance —”
“No,” I said firmly. “You can’t see the girls. Not after you abandoned them like that.
I don’t know how you can even call yourself a mother after trading your own children for money and a fantasy. They deserve better, and so do I.”
Tears streamed down her face, but I didn’t care. “They’re happy, Miranda.
They’ve moved on. And so have I.”
I stood up, looking down at her one last time. “I hope you figure out how to fix your life.
But you won’t do it at our expense. Goodbye, Miranda.”
When I got home, the girls ran to meet me at the door. Sophie grabbed my hand.
“Daddy, can we make pancakes?”
I smiled and knelt down to hug her. “Of course we can, princess.”
Emily tugged at my shirt. “Can we put sprinkles on them?”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
As I stood in the kitchen, the smell of batter filling the air, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: peace.
Miranda’s choices had been hers to make, and now she had to live with them.
I had made mine, too. And I had no regrets.
Sophie and Emily giggled as they dumped way too many sprinkles on their pancakes, and I realized the truth: everything I needed was right here.
“Daddy, these are the best pancakes ever!” Sophie declared through a mouthful of syrup.
I laughed, ruffling her hair. “I think so too, sweetie.”
Miranda thought freedom was leaving us behind, but she didn’t know what real happiness looked like.
I did. And that? That felt pretty damn poetic.
