The year had been tough financially, and my husband and I agreed Christmas would be modest—$500 per child, no exceptions. I spent weeks carefully planning gifts for my son, stretching every dollar, proud of what I’d managed.
Then he handed me a bag for his daughter—and inside was over $2,000 in gaming gear. Shocked, I confronted him. He said coldly, “She comes first, just like your son does for you. If you don’t like it, leave.”
I realized he never saw me as part of the family. The next day, I began separating, taking my son with me.
A few days later, his daughter showed up, crying. She didn’t want the gifts. She just wanted a father—and me. I held her, heartbroken, but I knew love shouldn’t require tolerating disrespect.
I still love her, but staying would have taught our children that fairness is optional. Some choices hurt no matter what—but some pains are worth choosing.