My husband left me to marry my younger sister. Four years later, when he saw the little boy standing behind me, his face lost all color.

The part that remembered what she had felt while loving her once wondered if refusing Jacob the chance to know her father would only create a new injury.

After weeks of introspection, I accepted a supervised meeting in a nearby park. Jacob was playing on the swings while I stood guard. He was shy at first, hiding behind me, but when Mark gently pushed the swing, Jacob laughed – a clear, innocent laugh that awakened something deep in me.

Over time, I have allowed more visits. Mark never missed one. Good weather, bad weather, he was present – sometimes with a little book or toy, without ever exaggerating, just trying to be present. Little by little, Jacob began to trust him.

I still couldn’t forgive Mark completely. The scars were too deep. But seeing my son’s face light up, I understood something: it was no longer about me. It was about giving Jacob the choice to know his father.

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