Sometimes, he takes people’s words very literally.
I knew that.
And that’s exactly why I will never forgive myself for what I said to him last Tuesday.
My husband left when Daniel was six.
He said he couldn’t handle our life anymore.
So I stayed.
I worked double shifts, did laundry late at night, and took my son to a special education center every morning.
I taught him how to dress himself, prepare simple meals, and cross the street safely.
When he finally learned to write his name without help, I cried with happiness as if he’d graduated from college.
But the years took their toll.
Over the past few months, my health had been getting worse. Money was tight. I was behind on the rent, and my boss had warned me that one more absence could cost me my job.
That Tuesday, I came home completely exhausted.
