Thirteen years passed before the consequences of my actions fully surfaced.
I was furious with Samantha for disclosing my affair with Pippa to Josh, who by then was a teenager. He confronted me at the apartment, visibly upset and armed with this newfound knowledge. The other boys left the room as our voices escalated. Despite my attempts to defuse the situation, his hurt quickly turned to anger.
The true tragedy lies in the fact that her desire to punish me also inflicted unnecessary pain on him. His disappointment had reverberations that, I suspect, persist to this day and encapsulate my deepest regret. There is no justification for my actions that lead to a child's estrangement from his father.
Today, the anger has dissipated, leaving behind a lingering gap—an emptiness maintained, perhaps out of habit, that can sometimes feel insurmountable. Yet, with each rare "I love you" that passes between us, hope is reignited.
But it wasn't always like this. Back when Josh was still an infant, and everything still felt salvageable, I found myself standing at a different kind of crossroads—one shaped less by regret and more by the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, things could still be made right.
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NAVEL GAZING: excessive absorption in self-analysis or focus on a single issue
Non-Fiction-A Lie I decided to focus on family, choosing to believe-and have faith-that everything else would fall into place. I wasn't comfortable-or good-at lying to her. So, when Samantha surprised me one day by swallowing her pride and asking directly if a...
