When my wife, Anna, urged me to leave our three-year-old, Ava, and move out temporarily, I was stunned. Her hidden motive changed everything. I’m Nate, a 32-year-old dad who cherishes Ava. She’s my heart, always choosing me for play or bedtime. Mornings begin with her calling, “Daddy!” as I carry her to make flower-shaped toast. “A bunny!” she squeals when I spread butter.
We walk to the park, her hand clutching mine. She loves swings, shouting, “Up, Daddy!” as I push. At home, we create sheet forts, where she says, “You’re my prince, Daddy!” Her happiness lights me up. Anna felt excluded. “Ava’s your girl,” she said, hurt. I proposed a mom-daughter outing, but she sighed, “No time, Nate.” Her growing distance concerned me.
One evening, after Ava’s bedtime, Anna said, “We need to talk.” Her voice was cold. “Move out for a bit,” she said. Confused, I asked, “Why?” She replied, “Ava needs me, and you’re too close.” I protested, “She’s three! She’ll be upset.” Anna referenced her childhood, insisting, “This is best.” After a fight, I agreed to a week at a friend’s, telling Ava I’d return soon.
At Sam’s, I longed for Ava. Her “Daddy, come back?” calls broke me. I said, “Soon, sweetie, I’m with Uncle Sam.” On day five, I bought her favorite pizza, imagining her joy. At home, I heard unfamiliar laughter. Inside, Anna was with her coworker, Chris. “Nate!” she gasped. Chris mumbled, “Hey.” I demanded, “What’s going on?” Anna’s weak “It’s nothing” exposed her infidelity.
“You sent me away for this?” I roared. She admitted feeling alone, but I said, “You betrayed us.” I left, confiding in Sam. We set up co-parenting for Ava. I moved nearby, treasuring our time. Anna joined a support group, bonding with Ava, which I appreciated. But trust was lost. Tucking Ava in, she asked, “Daddy, you’ll stay?” I vowed, “Forever.” Ava’s love rebuilt our family, offering a hopeful future.
