Soon, Derek visited with pizza and board games. Callie adored him. With his help, I found part-time work, and Callie returned to school. Slowly, we rebuilt our lives—and our family.
Each day brought healing. I joined support groups, chipped away at debt, and even started volunteering at the hospital. I led workshops for other parents, shared our story at the bookstore’s reading hour, and learned that asking for help isn’t weakness—it’s courage.
A year later, this house is home. Callie laughs freely. Derek is no longer a stranger but a constant presence. Photos line the walls: reminders of how far we’ve come.
Life isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. And sometimes, the road to rebuilding begins with letting someone in.