“How could you?” I demanded, shoving the letter in front of her. “All this time, I thought you were just being overbearing, but no, you’ve been bullying Suzie for years, haven’t you?”
Her face drained of color as she read the letter.
“Ben, listen to me —”
“No!” I snapped. “You listen to me. Suzie left because of you. Because you made her feel worthless. And now she’s gone, and I’m here trying to raise two babies on my own.”
“I only wanted to protect you,” she whispered. “She wasn’t good enough —”
“She’s the mother of my children!” I shouted. “You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me or them. You’re done here, Mom. Pack your things. Get out.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I replied coldly.
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but something in my expression must have stopped her.
An hour later, her car disappeared down the street.
The following weeks were brutal.
Between sleepless nights, constant diaper changes, and endless crying — sometimes from the babies, sometimes from me — life became a blur.
Yet in every quiet moment, my thoughts drifted back to Suzie.
I contacted everyone I could think of.
Her friends.
Her family.
Anyone who might know where she had gone.
No one had heard from her.
But when I called her college friend Sara, she hesitated before answering.
“She talked about feeling… trapped,” Sara admitted quietly over the phone. “Not by you, Ben, but by everything. The pregnancy, your mom. She told me once that Mandy said the twins would be better off without her.”
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