I wanted to tell her that her mother thought about her every day.
I wanted to say something kind enough to soften the pain.
But I had learned that a comforting lie could become another wound.
“I don’t know what she remembers, sweetheart,” I said. “But I know what you deserve. You deserve people who show up for you.”
Chloe nodded, but her eyes filled with tears.
“Would you ever leave us?”
I crouched beside her chair.
“Never.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck.
That night, after she went to bed, I sat alone in the kitchen and cried for the first time since Elena had left.
Not because I wanted my wife back.
Because my daughter had grown old enough to wonder whether love was something people could simply withdraw.
I made a promise to myself that night.
Whatever Elena chose to do, I would never allow our daughters to believe that her absence was their fault.
