Our children leaned forward, curiosity mixed with concern etched on their faces.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the anticipation of his words almost unbearable.
“Your mother and I…” he started, pausing to gather his thoughts.
The words hung, unfinished, as he struggled to continue.
I saw the hesitation in his eyes, the conflict bubbling beneath the surface.
He took a deep breath and continued.
“We’ve decided to separate.”
The impact of his words hit like a wave, crashing through the room.
Our daughter’s eyes widened in disbelief, while our son sat back, processing the revelation.
“Why?” she asked, her voice small and uncertain.
My husband glanced at me, the weight of the explanation shared between us.
“It’s complicated,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
There was so much more to say, yet the words felt trapped inside.
They deserved the truth, but how much could they handle?
“We still love you both,” he added, his voice softer now.
Our son nodded, absorbing the news with a stoic resolve.
Our daughter, more emotional, wiped away a tear.
“We just need time to figure things out,” I offered, hoping to ease their worries.
The room settled into a tense silence, the enormity of the situation sinking in.
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