I fell in love with Kira when I was a young man, which was twenty-four years ago. I couldn’t imagine living without her, so we married right away. Although Kira emphasized that we should first enjoy our time together, I was ready to establish a family. We eventually learned Kira was expecting, which was wonderful news. When we learned that she was having triplets—two boys and a girl—I was overcome with joy and couldn’t help but cry. I shouted with happiness as I sprinted through the hospital’s hallways.
However, a tragic incident occurred after the delivery. Kira vanished, leaving me alone myself with the infants. She entirely disappeared. I dialed my parents’ number, who fortunately lived close by. They agreed to look after the kids and jumped in to help. My kids developed swiftly. They received high grades and graduated from school before I knew it. My daughter chose to become a dentist, while my sons studied to be lawyers and programmers. I had the utmost pride in them.
I never got remarried because, initially, I didn’t have the time to consider it and, afterwards, I didn’t want to. There was a knock on my door a year ago. When I opened it, Kira was speaking honestly and looked like she had aged around 40 years. After inviting her inside and providing tea and cookies, I immediately regretted my decision. At first, Kira insisted she was sorry for her errors and wanted to express her regret to me and our kids. She then claimed that she was homeless and was waiting for my assistance.
She later sought financial support from me and anticipated a monthly payment, but I was unsure of her motivation. I eventually threw her out and warned her not to come near our kids if she merely saw them as a way to make money. My ex-wife filed a lawsuit against me, but she inevitably lost. When my daughter first saw her mother, she remarked,
You know, Kira, whenever my friends talked about confiding in their mothers or borrowing their clothes and makeup, I always felt envious. I had dreams of having an older acquaintance in our family and experiencing a mother’s warmth.
But now that I’ve seen what you’ve turned into, I can declare with certainty that I would live my life differently if I could, without you.