When my father betrayed our family, my mother picked up the pieces, and I supported her. Years later, following her death, he begged me for something unfathomable. I tried to remain neutral, but what he said next broke me.
I used to believe we had the ideal family.
Dad would arrive home from work at precisely 6 p.m. We’d eat dinner together and discuss our days. Mom would laugh at his bad jokes, while I would roll my eyes and beg him to come up with something better.
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