After years of longing, Emily’s dream finally came true: she gave birth to three beautiful baby girls.
But the next day, her husband abandoned them, claiming the babies were cursed.
As I held my newborn daughters in my arms, my heart overflowed with love for Sophie, Lily, and Grace.
They were perfect little miracles I had hoped and prayed for over the years.
Watching their peaceful faces as they slept, I whispered promises of love and protection, vowing never to leave them.
But when Jack returned from his errands, something felt off.
His face was pale, his movements hesitant.
He stayed near the door, not daring to come closer.
“Jack?” I asked softly, patting the chair beside me.
“Come meet our daughters. They’re here. We did it.”
He muttered something about how beautiful they were but avoided my gaze, clearly uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, fear creeping into my voice.
He took a deep breath before blurting out, “Emily, I don’t think we can keep them.”
His words hit me like a punch to the stomach.
“What are you talking about? They’re our daughters!”
He hesitated before admitting that his mother had consulted a fortune-teller.
According to her, our daughters would bring nothing but misfortune and eventually cause his death.
I stared at him in disbelief as anger began to rise beneath my shock.
“You’re abandoning us because of some fortune-teller’s nonsense?” I shouted, my voice trembling with rage.
“They’re your daughters, Jack!”
He looked at me, guilt filling his eyes.
“If you want to stay with them, that’s your choice,” he murmured.
“But I can’t stay.”
With that, he turned and left the room, leaving me devastated.
Despite my pain, I knew I had to be strong for my daughters.
Every day was exhausting—three newborns and no partner—but I refused to give up.
They were everything to me.
Their smiles and the way their tiny fingers curled around mine gave me the strength to carry on.
One day, Jack’s sister, Beth, came to visit.
She was the only member of his family who stayed in touch, and I secretly hoped she might convince Jack to return.
That afternoon, her face was clouded with worry.
“Emily, I need to tell you something,” Beth said hesitantly.
I overheard Mom talking to Aunt Carol,” Beth began hesitantly.
“There was never a fortune-teller. Mom made it all up.”
The room spun around me.
“What?” I managed to whisper.
“She was afraid Jack would put you and the girls ahead of her,” Beth confessed.
“She thought scaring him would keep him close to her.”
A deep rage rose within me like never before.
This lie, born of selfishness, had torn my family apart.
That night, I called Jack to tell him the truth.
But he dismissed me, defending his mother and refusing to believe she could have lied.
Weeks turned into months, and I learned how to navigate life as a single mother.
Friends and loved ones stepped in to help, and I found unexpected joy in every milestone my daughters reached.
Their laughter and little triumphs became the center of my world.
Months later, Jack’s mother showed up at my door, pale and in tears.
She confessed everything and begged for forgiveness.
“I was afraid of losing him,” she sobbed.
“I never thought he’d leave you.”
I crossed my arms, struggling to contain my anger.
“Your fear destroyed my family,” I said coldly.
“You’ll have to live with that.”
A year after he left, Jack reappeared, his face filled with regret.
He begged me to take him back, saying he’d realized his mistake.
But it was too late.
“You abandoned us when we needed you the most,” I said firmly.
“I’ve built a life for my daughters without you, and we’re stronger for it.”
“You made your choice, Jack.
Now live with it.”
As I closed the door, I felt a profound sense of closure.
My daughters and I were a family—whole, strong, and unshakable.
Jack hadn’t cursed our lives.
He had cursed his own.
