I was elbow-deep in dishwater when Owen’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his face went pale. “It’s Claire,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
My stomach dropped. Claire, Owen’s ex-wife, hadn’t contacted us in years, not since she’d turned the kids against him after their divorce. She was a controlling witch who didn’t even allow Owen to have pets when they were married.
I dried my hands quickly, moving closer to Owen as he answered the call. “Hello?” Owen’s voice was cautious, guarded. I couldn’t hear Claire’s side of the conversation, but Owen’s expressions told me everything I needed to know.
His eyebrows shot up, then furrowed. His free hand clenched into a fist, then slowly relaxed. “They want to… Really?” Owen’s voice cracked slightly.
“Yeah, of course. I’d love that.”
When he hung up, Owen turned to me, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear. “The kids want to see me,” he said.
“After all this time…”
I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his body tremble slightly. “That’s wonderful, Owen,” I said, trying to keep my own emotions in check. “But why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
Owen sighed, pulling back to look at me.
“Claire insists on visiting first. To ‘check things out’ before she’ll let the kids come over.”
I felt a flash of anger. “She doesn’t get to dictate—”
“I know,” Owen cut me off gently.
“But if it means seeing my kids again… I’ll jump through whatever hoops I have to.”
The next few days were a whirlwind of cleaning and preparation. Our son, Ethan, picked up on the tension, asking why we were “making everything so fancy.”
When the doorbell rang that Saturday morning, Owen and I exchanged a look. This was it.
Owen took a deep breath and opened the door. Claire stood there, looking exactly as I remembered her from the few times we’d met years ago. Perfectly coiffed hair, designer clothes, and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Owen,” she said, her voice dripping with false warmth. “It’s been too long.”
As soon as she stepped inside, her facade cracked. Her nose wrinkled as she looked around our living room.
“What’s this sofa made of? Synthetic fiber? My kids can’t lie on that.
Throw it away.”
I bit my tongue, reminding myself that this was for Owen’s kids. But then Buddy, our golden retriever, came bounding in to investigate the newcomer, followed closely by Mr. Whiskers, our tabby cat.
Claire let out a screech that made us all jump. “You have a cat and a dog?! Are you out of your mind?
Get rid of these disgusting animals, or no kids in this house!”
My cheeks flushed with anger, but before I could speak, Owen stepped forward. His voice was low but firm. “Firstly, you’re not going to come into my house and tell us what to get rid of.
Especially not our pets.”
“Oh, really?” Claire crossed her arms, looking smug like she thought she had the upper hand. But Owen wasn’t done. “Secondly, if you keep this up, the only people allowed in this house will be the kids, not you.
Thirdly, if you try to stand between me and my kids again, I’ll take this to court. Trust me, you don’t want that.”
The look on her face was priceless. She wasn’t expecting him to push back.
“You can’t talk to me like that!” Claire sputtered. “I’m their mother!”
“And I’m their father,” Owen replied calmly. “And guess what?
They’re coming here to visit their family. You’re not in charge here.”
She stood there for a moment, clearly scrambling for control, and tried to regain her composure. “Fine,” she said, smirking again, “but my kids won’t stay in a house with pets.
So, it’s my way or nothing.”
I finally found my voice. “If you’re going to make this difficult, maybe we should get the courts involved, like Owen said.”
Claire’s eyes widened. For the first time, she looked a little nervous.
She knew she didn’t have much leverage anymore, especially since she’d kept the kids away all these years. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “But if they get sick because of your filthy animals, it’s on you!”
With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Owen and I stood in stunned silence for a moment before he pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispered into my hair. “For standing with me.”
I hugged him back, feeling a mix of pride and apprehension.
We’d won this battle, but the war was far from over. The week leading up to the kids’ visit was tense. Claire started calling and texting Owen constantly, trying every trick in her book to make him cave.
She’d claim the kids were anxious about the pets, or that they were having second thoughts about the whole thing. One night, I found Owen sitting on the edge of our bed, his head in his hands. “What if she’s right?” he murmured as I sat next to him.
“What if the kids really are uncomfortable with all this?”
I put my arm around him, feeling his pain as if it were my own. “Owen, listen to me. You’re a wonderful father.
Ethan adores you, and your other kids will see that too. We just need to be patient and show them the real us.”
He nodded, but I could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t erase years of manipulation and separation in one week.
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