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.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
TAP ” READ MORE ” 👇
