she asked innocently. My heart stopped. Her name was Ivy. She was five. Matt’s daughter from an affair years ago—one he never told me about. He had been supporting her and her mother with the money I earned, all while calling me his future. The next morning, I packed his belongings, changed the locks, and left divorce papers on the porch. When he begged for a second chance, I told him the truth: “The worst part isn’t the affair. It’s that while I was trying to build a family with you,

you already had one—and you hid it.” I closed the door and let the silence settle in. Not for the man I lost, but for the time I wasted loving someone who never deserved it. Sometimes you have to drown before you remember how to swim. And from that day forward, I swam only toward what truly deserved my heart.