The journey away from the terminal felt longer than the journey there.
I was tired.
My arms hurt.
And my mind kept returning to the same few moments.
Ryan's arm around that woman.
Their kiss.
His expression when he saw me.
His explanation.
I tried not to replay them.
But memories don't always listen when you ask them to stop.
The girls needed attention.
I focused on them instead.
I checked their blankets and made sure their belongings were together.
I wanted them comfortable.
That was the only thing I could control completely.
When we finally reached a quiet place, I sat down and rested.
For the first time that day, I allowed myself to cry.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to release the feelings I had been holding inside.
I cried because I had loved Ryan.
I cried because I had trusted him.
And I cried because I had wanted our daughters to have the kind of family I had imagined.
Then one of the girls made a little sound.
I wiped my face.
I looked at her.
"Mommy's here."
Those words reminded me that I wasn't alone.
I had my daughters.
They were small, but they gave me a reason to keep moving.
My phone vibrated.
Ryan had sent another message.
"Please come home. We can fix this."
I read it.
Then I placed the phone down.
I didn't know whether our marriage could survive.
I didn't know whether I would ever trust him again.
But I knew I couldn't simply return to the way things had been.
That evening, I concentrated on the babies.
I fed them.
I changed them.
I made sure they were comfortable.
The familiar routine helped.
It reminded me that some things hadn't changed.
I was still their mother.
They were still my daughters.
And they still deserved the same love I had given them from the beginning.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: When Ryan Finally Tried to Explain Himself, I Realized That His Biggest Loss Was Something Money and Promises Could Never Replace
I Thought the Hardest Part of Having Twins Would Be Raising Them Alone While My Husband Was Somewhere Across the Ocean
Part 18 of 20
