My Daughter Took My Hand After School and Said, “Mom, Divorce Dad — He Doesn’t Love Us.” That Night, Over One Chicken Leg, I Finally Listened

He nodded.

“I know.” “But you’re young,” I told him, “and you still get to decide what kind of man you become from here.” A flicker of hope crossed his face.

“Does that mean you and Chloe are coming home?” “No,” I said.

His face fell.

“Forgiving someone, someday, doesn’t mean going back to the place where you were broken.” I took Chloe’s hand.

“Take care of yourself.”