“I want to make things right.”
“You can’t expect me to forgive you right away, David.”
“I don’t. Just… let me try.”
I should’ve closed the door; instead, I stepped aside.
That was my first mistake.
***
David started small. He brought groceries, fixed things around the apartment, and asked about Cindy, as if he were trying to learn who she was.
The first time she called him “Dad,” I almost stopped it, but I didn’t.
I told myself I was doing it for her.
That was my first mistake.
Weeks passed, then months, while David remained consistent.
My ex-husband showed up when he said he would. He took responsibility in ways I hadn’t seen before. Sometimes I almost forgot we’d divorced, and slowly, without realizing it, I stopped expecting him to leave again.
That was the second mistake. The last one came quickly.
***
One day, David asked me to marry him again. I didn’t say yes right away. I made him wait.
We talked, argued, and I pushed him on everything: what changed, why now, and what he actually wanted.
His answers felt real. Not perfect, but real.
David remained consistent.
