I devoted twenty years of my life to raising two little girls after promising their dying mother I would protect them. I never imagined that one day, those same girls would use that promise to push me out of their lives.
A moving truck sat in my driveway, every box inside labeled with my name. I stood at the end of the path in the evening drizzle, still wearing my hospital coat, unable to comprehend what I was seeing.
Nika was near the door, taping a box shut. Angela handed bags to the driver, her movements deliberate, as if this had been planned.
“What is going on?” I asked, my voice trembling.
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