I immediately took out my phone and called my mother:
— MOM, YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS!
One rainy day, returning from the store, I suddenly saw them — Michael and Victoria — at a shabby street café.
Time had been merciless to them. Michael looked exhausted: wrinkled shirt, loose tie, thinning hair, and a face marked by fatigue.
Victoria wore designer clothes, but the shine was gone. Faded dress, worn bag, and scuffed heels betrayed the empty illusion of past glamour.
I stopped, unsure what to feel — pity, anger, or a strange relief. Our eyes met, and hope flickered in his.
“Anna!” he called, jumping up. “Wait!”
I hesitated, then approached, placing the bags under the awning. Victoria’s face immediately stiffened — she turned away as if I didn’t exist.
“Anna, forgive me for everything,” Michael breathed with a trembling voice. “Please, let’s talk. I want to see the children. I want to make things right.”
“Make things right?” I asked calmly. “You haven’t seen them in over two years. You stopped helping. What exactly are you going to fix now?”
He nodded awkwardly:
“I know… Victoria and I…,” he glanced nervously at her. “We made mistakes.”
“Don’t blame everything on me,” she snapped. “You spent the money on the ‘sure investment.’”
“You convinced me!” he exploded.
Their frustration spilled out. At that moment, I saw them not as the couple who destroyed my family, but as two people who destroyed themselves.
Finally, Victoria stood up, adjusting her faded dress.
“I’m not staying here anymore. Now you’re on your own, Michael.”
Michael didn’t try to stop her. He just sat, shoulders slumped, then looked at me again.
“Anna… please. Give me a chance. I miss the children. I miss us.”
I studied his face, trying to find any shadow of the man I once loved. But in front of me was a stranger — a man who traded everything valuable for emptiness.
“Give me your number,” I said firmly. “If the children want to talk, they will decide themselves.”
He flinched but nodded, quickly writing the number on a scrap of paper.
“Thank you, Anna… I’ll wait.”
I put the paper in my pocket without even looking at it and walked to the car. And suddenly I felt not gloating or revenge, but a rare, pure sense of closure. I no longer needed his remorse.
The children and I had our own life — warm, strong, and real. And no one could take that away from us.