They both looked up, Clara with syrup clinging to the corner of her mouth and Cole with a bite paused mid-air.
“The wedding’s not happening,” I said. “Jake’s not going to be around anymore.”
A sad little girl with curly hair | Source: Midjourney
A sad little girl with curly hair | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed. The question caught me off guard, not because it was unexpected, but because it was so innocent. So… open-hearted.
“He cared about us,” I said slowly. “But sometimes, people change. And when someone stops treating us with love, we have to protect our hearts.”
Cole didn’t say anything right away. He just stared at his plate, thinking. Then he looked up and smiled softly.
A little boy sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
A little boy sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“We’re still a team though, right?”
“Always,” my throat tightened and I reached across the table, placing my hand over his.
Later that week, I canceled the vendors one by one. I packed the dress carefully back into its box, as if handling something fragile that had already broken. I mailed Jake’s ring back in a small padded envelope. I didn’t send a note.
People talk about heartbreak like it’s always loud, with screaming, crying, and slammed doors. But sometimes, it’s a napkin folded too neatly on a restaurant table. A paused fork. A sentence that splits your life into before and after.
But I didn’t break that night. Sure, my heart was sore… but everything else was clarified.
And that, I think, is the quiet power of love, the kind that lives in bedtime stories, shared waffles, and the promise to walk away from anyone who makes your children feel like a burden.
Because in this house, love doesn’t come with a price tag. And no one pays rent to be part of a family.
A smiling woman standing on a balcony | Source: Midjourney
A smiling woman standing on a balcony | Source: Midjourney
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
When Amy’s health insurance bounces, she discovers their joint account is empty, and her husband blames her yarn obsession. But the real culprit? A wedding. A sister. And a betrayal she never saw coming. With receipts in hand and a bridal shower mic drop brewing, Amy’s about to remind everyone: Trust isn’t free.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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