I thought my husband would support me no matter what. But the night I caught him with my best friend, my world was turned upside down. I ran into the storm, blinded by tears, never seeing the sharp turn that lay ahead.
I had always considered myself happy. I had a loving husband, a daughter I adored, and a best friend I trusted completely. My life resembled a perfect picture—pleasant dinners, laughter around the table, kisses before bed.
Mark was my rock. He always knew how to make me laugh, even on my worst days.
“Kate, don’t stress. What’s the worst that can happen? Dinner burns? We’ll order pizza. Problem solved.”
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Our six-year-old daughter, Sophie, was a pure joy. She loved bedtime stories, fudge ice cream, and our spontaneous dance parties.
“Mom, spin me! Higher!” she giggled, spinning in my arms.
“Okay, but if I fall, you carry me to bed,” I joked, which made him laugh even harder.
Mark shook his head. “Two troublemakers. I don’t stand a chance in this house.”
We were a team, a perfect trio. At least, that’s what I thought.
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And then there was Sarah. My best friend. The person I trusted with everything.
When she told me she didn’t want to celebrate her birthday, I figured she was just in the mood. But a birthday without a party? I felt out of place.
So I decided to surprise her. I bought her favorite chocolate and cherry cake, smiling to myself.
She’ll roll her eyes and say, “Kate, you’re being ridiculous.”
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I parked in front of his house, but something seemed wrong. The door was ajar.
“Sarah?” I called as I entered.
Silence. I took a few more steps and stopped.
Mark was on his couch. His hand rested on the small of her back. Their fingers intertwined. His face… so close to hers. Too close. The air left my lungs.
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“Kate…” Mark stood up, pale.
Sarah’s eyes widen. “Wait, just…”
Their voices blurred, muffled. My heartbeat rumbled in my ears. The cake slipped from my fingers, landing with a soft thud.
I turned and ran. Outside, the rain pounded on my skin as I fumbled for my keys. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely insert them into the ignition.
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“Breathe, Kate. Breathe.”
The engine began to roar. My chest swelled. My vision blurred.
I stepped on the accelerator. The streetlights transformed into streaks of gold.
Sharp turn sign. Too late. The tires have skidded. A violent, crushing force.
The darkness.
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***
I woke up in a hospital bed. My body felt foreign, broken, and unresponsive. I tried to move, but something was wrong…
“Kate,” said the doctor’s calm voice. “You need to know…”
His words burned like fire. Lower-body paralysis. A wheelchair. The possibility of recovery, but no guarantees.
I couldn’t understand how this was possible. How could I no longer walk?
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Panic gripped my throat. And then I saw her.
Sophie stood by the door. Her eyes were huge, filled with fear and pain. She ran towards me, threw her arms around me, and buried her face in my shoulder.
“Mom…”
I hugged her as tight as I could.
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Mark stood there. His face was distant, cold, devoid of any regret. I looked at him and, for the first time, I felt real fear.
“We’ll get through this,” I whispered, because I had to believe it. I had to.
He exhaled, long and heavy. “Kate…”
I asked Sophie to go play with her teddy bear in the hallway. A kind nurse offered to stay with her for a few minutes.
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Mark finally continued. “I can’t do this anymore.”
The world stopped.
“What ?”
“I’m leaving.”
No excuses. No remorse. No hesitation. Just a simple statement of fact.
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I gripped the sheets so tightly my fingers turned white. “For her?”
He didn’t answer.
“I’ll take care of Sophie for now,” he added dryly. “We’ll decide the rest later.”
Then he simply turned on his heel and walked away. I was left alone. Tears silently streamed down my face.
I had to get back on my feet. For Sophie.
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***
Rehabilitation was hell. That’s when Alex came into my life.
He was my physical therapist, coming every day and teaching me how to move. I was like a child learning to walk for the first time. He was kind and patient, but he never let me give up.
“One more time, Kate. You can do this.”
But I couldn’t do it.
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I was angry. At myself. At my husband. At Alex, who demanded I focus on my legs when all I could think about was the betrayal and my desire to feel sorry for myself.
A week of failed therapy passed. Then Sophie returned.
She wasn’t just happy, she was beaming. She ran into the room and jumped onto the bed, her long hair falling over her shoulders and her voice filled with pure excitement.
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“Mom, you won’t believe this! We went to the amusement park!” She sat across from me, her eyes sparkling. “Dad let me ride the biggest roller coaster, and Aunt Sarah bought me the biggest cotton candy!”
Her words hit me like a hammer. Aunt Sarah.
I forced myself to smile, even though I had a lump in my throat.
“That sounds wonderful, darling.”
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“Mom, can we go together next time?” she grabbed my hand enthusiastically.
I wanted to say “yes.”
But I had barely learned to get in and out of my wheelchair on my own. Doing basic household chores was an exhausting challenge. The idea of going anywhere in that chair seemed unbearable, impossible.
I wanted to promise to run beside her, to laugh with her, to hold her hand as she screamed with joy on the rides. But I couldn’t. My legs wouldn’t move. My legs didn’t exist in the world she lived in.
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Sophie waited. Her big eyes looked at me with hope, and it burned more than any words ever could.
I looked away. “I don’t know, darling.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes. She gently let go of my hand, her shoulders slumping.
“Oh… well, maybe another time,” she murmured.
That evening, Mark called.
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“Sophie is doing very well with me,” his voice was calm, certain, as if he had already decided everything for us. “I think she should live here.”
I grabbed the phone. “You didn’t even ask me.”
“Kate, be honest. This is hard for you. Sophie deserves a normal childhood.”
I almost screamed. “And you think I can’t give him that?”
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Mark sighed, as if talking to a child who refused to understand something obvious.
“You see for yourself. I’ll pick her up tomorrow—she has a dentist appointment and then a birthday party. Or do you want to take her yourself?”
I clenched my jaw. He didn’t wait for my answer. He hung up.
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***
The next morning, Sophie left. When Alex arrived, I greeted him with a cold stare.
“I’m done.”
He was surprised, but not shaken.
“Kate, it’s okay to be exhausted. But not right now. You’ve come this far.”
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“And for what?” My voice cracked, hysteria creeping in. “For what? To see my daughter having the time of her life with my ex and his mistress? To know she’d rather be with them than me? To keep staring at my legs, waiting for them to magically start working again?”
Alex pressed her lips together. “Sophie loves you. But you need time.”
“She needs a mother who can walk.”
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He let out a heavy sigh. “She needs a mother who doesn’t give up.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered.
Alex looked at me for a long moment, his eyes full of understanding.
“All right.”
I frowned. “Okay?”
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“If you want to give up, I can’t stop you.”
He stood up. “But if you still need my help, you know where to find me.”
Then he left. I sat by the window and watched the rain begin to fall.
***
The next day, my mother arrived. I hadn’t invited her. I hadn’t even told her what was happening. I suspected Alex had found her number and called her.
She entered the room without asking permission and sat next to me.
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“My sweet girl,” she gently took my hand, like she used to do when I was little and scared. “Everything will be okay.”
I didn’t answer.
“Doctors say you have to believe in yourself.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I don’t believe in anything anymore, Mom.”
She sighed, stroked my hand, and without another word, opened her laptop.
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On the screen, I saw myself as a child. Running on a beach, laughing, falling into the sand, getting up again, running to my mother, who lifted me into the air and spun me around.
I stared at the screen in shock. “What is this?”
Mom smiled.
“Your childhood. That’s when I didn’t have the strength to lift you. I had cancer. I was recovering from chemotherapy.”
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I shuddered.
“I remember that time… but I didn’t know you were sick. You always looked so strong. You just… started wearing that scarf everywhere. But I never knew.”
She looked at me with soft but steady eyes.
“When your father died, I got sick. The doctors told me my chances were 50-50.”
“But you recovered.”
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“Because I saw your eyes,” she squeezed my hand. “I didn’t want to betray your happiness.”
I never knew. She gently brushed a strand of hair away from my face.
“And Sophie… he wants to take her from me,” I whispered.
“Darling, I’m going to take care of Sophie. Until you’re back on your feet. And that will be soon. I believe it.”
She winks. “And Alex… I think he believes in you too.”
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I suddenly saw my mother in a whole new way, and at that moment, I realized that if she could do it, I could too. That night, I called her.
“I’m going back to rehabilitation.”
“I knew you would,” he said.
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***
The days that followed were brutal. But Sophie and my mother were there, and that gave me the strength to move forward.
I fell. Alex caught me. I tried to move. Again and again.
“If you need me outside of that, I can help you with Sophie. Your mother needs a break from time to time too.”
I looked up at him, something warm and unexpected stirring inside me.
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“Is this your way of asking me out?”
He chuckled. That’s when I took my first step. Then my second.
A month later, I threw Sophie a birthday party. I stood by her side. Without a wheelchair.
Alex took my hand. Mark watched me from afar. But I never looked back.
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