I hadn’t planned on leaving for the weekend. In fact, with mom guilt, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But my mom had been going through a tough time, and I knew that I had to go. My dad had passed away the year before, and the anniversary of his death was that weekend, too.

She was struggling. She needed me.

I hesitated about leaving home, though. I didn’t want to disrupt the flow of things. We were a routine-based family, and my husband, Greg, wasn’t exactly the most hands-on dad. But when I mentioned going, he didn’t even bat an eye.

“Go see your mom, honey,” he said. “I’ll handle the kids. No problem.”

Look, maybe it was his time to get his act together and finally just spend time with our kids. Lily was 8, fiercely independent, and loved her grilled cheese sandwiches. And Mary, our baby at 18 months, was a clingy little girl who loved being held.

“Are you sure?” I asked Greg.

I wanted to watch his body language, too. If there was even a flinch, I would have stayed behind. Any sign of hesitation would have made me forget about the weekend away entirely.

“Yes, Taylor,” he said. “I’m telling you, we’ll be perfectly fine. All three of us.”

So, reluctantly, I agreed.

Before leaving, I gave Greg all the instructions.

“Mary’s still teething, so she gets irritable easily. You need to put some teething gel onto her gums or give her a strawberry from the fridge. She gets some relief from the cold.”

My husband nodded.

“And Lily’s got homework for the weekend. There’s a project due on Monday. It’s a basic family tree, so you just need to give her the names of everyone, really. And she loves her bedtime stories. Two chapters per night.”

“Relax, Taylor,” Greg said. “They’re my kids, too. I know how to handle them.”

“I know that,” I said. “I’m just reminding you of these things. Call me if you need me.”

Greg promised me that everything would be fine.

It wasn’t.

“Mom, please come home! I can’t do it anymore!”

The first day seemed normal enough. I had struggled to sleep all night because I hadn’t put my kids to bed, so it felt like something was missing. My mother made me a mug of hot chocolate.

“Get some sleep, Tay,” she said. “Or you’re going to drive yourself insane. It’s normal to take some time away from the girls. Greg has them sorted.”

Naturally, I had to call them early on Saturday morning. I just needed to check in. I needed to know that Greg had it all under control.

“Dad’s busy,” Lily said when I called for the third time that day, hoping to speak to Greg.

“What do you mean, honey?” I asked.

“He’s outside,” she said. “Busy, Mom!”

My gut told me that something was off, but I brushed it aside. Maybe he really was busy or just taking care of the baby, and I was being paranoid beyond control.

I spent the rest of the day cooking with my mother. It was something that we had done together since I was Lily’s age, and I loved every memory of it.

“Your father loved roast chicken,” my mother said, brushing garlic and thyme butter onto the chicken. “Especially the leftovers. I would find him eating them straight out of the fridge.”

“That’s Lily now,” I laughed. “She’s a lot like Dad.”

When evening came, I forced myself not to call home. I knew that if something was wrong or if they really needed me, Greg would call. But it had been radio silence, making me think that everything was absolutely fine.

Until my phone rang. And it was Lily, sobbing hysterically into the phone.

“Mom, please come home!” she said. “I can’t do this anymore!”

“Momma’s coming, baby,” I said.

“Okay,” she cried and cut the call.

My mind was racing beyond anything I had ever encountered. What was going on at home? Why was my child calling me sobbing like it was the end of the world?

Where was Greg?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened.

“Mom!” I called for my own mother as I ran into the guestroom and began packing my things. I didn’t bother to change out of my pajamas. I just needed to get home.

The whole drive home, I kept imagining the worst. Was Mary okay? Had something happened to Greg? I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened.

When I arrived, Lily was on the couch, holding Mary, her face streaked with tears. She looked beyond exhausted and on the verge of passing out.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, taking Mary from her.

“He left this morning. He went fishing.”

I stood there, frozen in shock. “What do you mean?”

My little girl’s lip quivered as she told me everything. Greg had woken up early that morning, packed his fishing gear, and told her that he was heading out.

“He said that he’ll be back on Sunday afternoon. Before you. He gave me $50 for pizza,” she said, “and that if I did a good job, he would buy me some ice cream and the doll I wanted.”

Greg had bribed his daughter. He had dumped the responsibility of caring for an 18-month-old on our 8-year-old child. Just to spend the weekend with his friends.

I could barely process what Lily was telling me. This was Greg? This was the man who claimed to be my partner and the father of my children? How could he put that kind of pressure on Lily? How could he make her feel like the whole house depended on her?

I sat down beside her and hugged her tight. Mary desperately needed her diaper changed. I saw that Lily had tried because the diaper was upside down.

“You did nothing wrong, my love. This isn’t your fault at all.”

Lily had tried her best. She had tried to mix Mary’s formula, and there were two jars of open baby food on the counter. There were two dirty diapers on the living room floor, wrapped in plastic bags. That little girl had held down the fort until Mary had thrown a tantrum, causing Lily to lose control.

By the time Greg strolled in on Sunday afternoon, reeking of fish and grinning like he had the best weekend of his life, I was fuming. He acted like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t abandoned our children.

“Hey, Tay,” he said, opening the fridge. “How was your trip?”

When he saw the look on my face, his smile vanished.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is your mom okay?” he asked, glancing between the three of us.

“What’s wrong? You left our kids!” I screamed. “Lily had to call me in tears, begging me to come home because you left her to take care of Mary while you were fishing!”

“Oh, that?” he said, waving it off. “I left her some money for pizza or whatever. She’s mature for her age. And you’re not the only one who deserved a break.”

“She’s eight years old. And you left her alone with a baby. Are you stupid?”

“Come on,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like anything happened.”

I couldn’t believe it. I could have screamed at him. But what would have been the point? He thought he was justified in his behavior.

I kept my calm until the next weekend when I knew that Greg had another fishing trip.

Saturday morning came, and Greg left at the crack of dawn. After he left, I packed the kids up and drove to the lake where he and his friends fished. When they saw me pull up, their faces fell.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” I said. “I just thought that Greg could spend some quality time with his daughters. You know, since he abandoned them during the last fishing trip.”

“You did what?” one of his friends asked, horrified.

“Yeah,” I said. “Exactly what you heard.”

There was silence.

“Anyway, I’ve filed for divorce, Greg,” I said. “And I applied for sole custody of my children.”

“You can’t do that, Taylor,” he said menacingly.

“I already did,” I said. “Don’t push me, Greg. I have no faith or trust in you. Just anger and disappointment. Say goodbye to the girls because you’re leaving our home tonight.”

Greg tried to speak, but I didn’t let him. There was no point. My mind was made up, and Lily was in agreement with me.

“I don’t like Daddy, Momma,” she said.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

A Stranger’s Note on My Husband’s Car Made Me Call My Lawyer

While Sierra is in mom mode, trying to get her kids off to school, she finds a sticky note on her husband’s car that makes her question where he had been the entire weekend. Wanting answers, she phones the number on the note, and slowly, secrets in her marriage unravel.

It was a typical Monday morning. I was in the mom zone, trying to get the kids to school on time. That’s when a piece of pink paper changed everything.

I had just put the kids into the car and was about to put their lunch bags and backpacks in with them when I saw the bright pink sticky note plastered on the trunk of my husband’s car.

I paused, my heart pounding, and walked over to read it.

“Sit tight,” I told the kids. “I’m coming now! I just want to see what’s on Dad’s car.”

“Okay, Mom,” Natasha shouted from the backseat.

Sorry, I scratched your car last night. You shouldn’t park on the street though! -Neighbor from 283. This is my number in case you need anything!

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.