He once told me he was tired of seeing my “old face” every day and wanted someone younger. Our divorce was messy—he tried to take what I had, left me with some of his debts, and dragged the process out as painfully as possible. When the papers were finally signed, I promised myself I’d never speak to him again, and for years, I kept that vow. Months ago, my three adult children (22–25) sat me down with serious expressions.
That’s when I learned their father had been diagnosed with advanced cancer. He’d lost his job, couldn’t keep his home, and they said he had “nowhere else to go.” They pleaded with me to let him move in, calling it his “final stage.” I was stunned—and honestly, offended. This was the same man who discarded me like an old shoe, who had humiliated me and tried to ruin me financially. Now I was supposed to open my home and my life to him?
My children promised they’d help, but with full-time jobs, I knew the weight would fall on me. I told them no. They called me cold, heartless, bitter. I reminded them I wasn’t stopping them from helping him—they could rent a place, arrange care, or even take him in themselves. Days later, he contacted me directly, asking me to “leave the past behind.”
The irony was sharp—he hadn’t gone to the younger women he once chose over me. But I stood firm. My peace, my home, and my self-respect are not up for negotiation. Not for a man who once made it clear I wasn’t worth keeping.