I came home to find my children sitting on the porch, their suitcases packed and confusion clouding their faces. They said I told them to leave—but I hadn’t. As panic rose inside me, a car pulled into the driveway. When I saw who was behind the wheel, I knew things were about to get even worse.
As I pulled into the driveway, my stomach knotted at the sight of my kids waiting on the steps, bags packed beside them. We didn’t have a trip planned. Why were they sitting there like that?
I jumped out of the car, barely closing the door behind me. “What’s going on?” I called out, rushing over to them.
My ten-year-old son, Jake, looked up at me, confusion and fear written on his face. “You told us to,” he mumbled.
“Told you to what?” I knelt down, heart pounding, hands trembling. “Why are you out here with your things?”
“You texted us,” he explained quietly, glancing at his little sister, Emily, who was clutching her stuffed rabbit. “You told us to pack our bags and wait for Dad. You said he was coming to get us.”
I froze, my brain struggling to process. “What? No, I didn’t! Let me see your phone.” My voice was shaking now.
Jake hesitated, then handed me his phone. As I scrolled through the messages, my blood ran cold:
“This is your mom. Pack your stuff, take the cash I left, and wait for Dad. He’ll be there soon.”
The words blurred before me. I hadn’t sent this. I hadn’t told them any of this. My heart raced, and a wave of nausea hit me. “Mom?” Emily’s soft voice cut through my panic. “Are we going with Dad?”
“No, sweetheart,” I said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
As I stood, gripping Jake’s phone, a car engine rumbled into the driveway. My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, I turned around. It was him—my ex-husband, Lewis.
“Kids,” I said, my voice steady but cold, “go inside. Now.”
Jake and Emily hesitated, grabbing their bags, but they lingered at the door. I had no time to reassure them. Lewis stepped out of his car, wearing that smug grin I’d grown to despise.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” he sneered. “Leaving the kids out here like this. Great parenting.”
I stepped toward him, trembling with anger. “What do you think you’re doing, telling them to pack up and wait for you? You have no right to be here.”
Lewis leaned casually against his car, arms crossed, as if he hadn’t just tried to take my children. “They shouldn’t have been left alone if you were being a responsible mother.”
“They were alone for two hours! The babysitter canceled last minute. I didn’t leave them in the dark!” I struggled to stay calm, but every word he said fanned the flames of my anger.
He shrugged. “Sounds like an excuse. Maybe if you can’t handle it, you should let them stay with me.”
I stared at him, disbelief surging through me. “You lost custody for a reason, remember?”
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