But slowly, quietly, things started to slip.

When Amelia turned five, Molly broke down one night after putting her to bed. Tears streamed down her face.

“I can’t do this anymore. I lost everything!”

“What are you talking about?” I asked softly.

“I lost my entire youth, Mark. I shouldn’t have had a kid at all!”

“Molly, please… Amelia might hear you. She’s in the next room.”

“I don’t care,” she shouted through sobs. “I want out of this. I’m filing for divorce, and I don’t want to see any of you again.”

My heart dropped. I begged her to rethink it, to take time, to breathe—but she had already packed her bags. And within minutes, she walked out of our lives.

When I went to check on Amelia, she was sitting up in bed, tears running down her face.

“Mommy left?” she whispered.